


Collection of Sexy Moments

by goth_on_ham



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Biting, Breathplay, Crossdressing, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Spanking, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 34,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: Prompt fills by me that focus on sex, romance, and general E rated stuff. (More tags and pairings will be added over time.)





	1. The Pleasant Misuse Of Ties (Ed x Oswald)

Ed wrapped the purple silk tie around Oswald’s left wrist, then his right, then his left again, then his right. Then he tied its ends together so that Oswald’s arms were bound by the absurdly expensive neckwear.

Oswald whimpered a little, but Ed paid him no mind. Instead, he pushed the back of his head down so that his face was pressed against the pillow and his ass was raised up into the air.

“That’s my favourite tie.” Oswald complained, sounding amusingly petulant. “You better not damage it.”

Ed began to stroke himself and took his time to respond. He was being selfish, but this was both a punishment for Oswald, and a reward to himself. He might as well enjoy it.

Oswald owed him. 

He had been particularly snippy recently, and Ed had been at the brunt of most of it.

He smacked Oswald on the ass, and Oswald yipped in a way that was both wholly undignified and completely adorable. Ed chuckled and ran his hand over the bright pink mark that had appeared and was gradually fading.

“I think you owe me an apology for the last few days.” He finally said, still touching Oswald, and himself. 

“I’m sorry, Ed.”

Ed shook his head, even if Oswald couldn’t see it. “Oh no, not yet. Once you’ve paid for it, then you apologise. Until then, you just keep still and take your punishment.”

Oswald shivered at the word ‘punishment’, and Ed felt an impatient need rise and swell at the sight of the bound man, trembling and bound and naked and submitting to _him._

“Count them out.” He ordered, and he began to spank him. Slowly at first, but the pace increased over time, and by twenty-five Oswald’s gasps and whimpers had escalated to writhing and pleading.

“I thought I told you to stay still.” Ed reminded him, his voice lowering and his hand squeezing the flesh that he had left sore and tender. Oswald sniffled and shifted against the bed. No words came out, so Ed prompted him with another swat. “I told you to stay still, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Oswald responded, the words muffled, quiet. “I’m sorry, Ed.”

“How sorry?”

“I’m very sorry.”

Ed smiled, a glint of sadism lighting up his dark brown eyes and making them shine rather mischievously. “I have a riddle for you.”

“Oh not now, Ed-“ Oswald began to whine, but Ed cut him off with another stinging slap to his ass. Oswald quietened, but Ed could feel the resentment burning off of him.

‘Very sorry’ indeed.

“I can soothe old wounds and heal past hurts, I show that you care, but not that you cared. What am I?” Ed’s fingertips drummed lightly on Oswald’s hip as he waited expectantly for his answer. It was an easy riddle, probably too easy, but Ed wanted him to get it.

Oswald took a moment to think, but then responded with a slight groan in his voice. “Ed, if you wanted me to do that… To ‘compensate’ you, you could have just asked.”

“What would the fun in that be?” Ed patted him on the rear with unmistakable fondness and began to help Oswald up onto his knees. 

The smaller man moved a little awkwardly, but with Ed’s help he managed to move so that he was facing Ed, and then, so that his face was near his cock. 

Ed placed a hand on Oswald’s head and moaned as Oswald began to lap at him, lick at him, and then take him into his mouth. Oswald’s tongue had been so sharp and cutting over the last few days, but like this it just felt warm and soft and _wonderful_. 

After he had came, he undid the tie around Oswald’s wrists and threw it aside. Oswald began to protest, but Ed quietened him with nuzzles and promises that he would gift him another if that one was damaged in any way. 

Oswald settled and Ed pulled him in for an embrace, his hands sliding down the gentle slope of his back towards the still sore and tender skin. Oswald moved closer to Ed’s body, huffing lightly.  
  
“I still can’t believe you asked me a _riddle_ in bed.” He muttered, in his usual sharp sort of way, but Ed decided to let it slide.


	2. Touching Anywhere But Where The Person Desperately Wants To Be Touched (Zsasz x Oswald)

“Oh Victor, please…”

Oswald arched his back and whined impatiently as Victor ran his hands over his chest, kissing at it as he did. It felt good, really good, but he wanted _more._

“Please what?” Victor looked up at him, a playful smirk tugging at the sides of his mouth.

“You know what.” Oswald complained.

However, Victor was unmoved.

“Tell me what you want.” He pressed, neither confirming nor denying what he did or didn’t know. “Or I’ll keep teasing you like this all night.”

Oswald pulled at the bonds that secured him to the bed. The thought of Victor kissing him, and touching him, but giving him not quite enough to satisfy him was maddening. 

“You wouldn’t.” He replied, but he was trying to convince himself of that, rather than Victor who just smiled wolfishly. 

“I could watch you like this for hours.” He leaned in close to Oswald’s neck and kissed up towards his jawline. When he reached his ear, he nibbled on it and made Oswald shiver. “How long do you think you’ll last before you start _really_ begging me to let you cum?”

Victor had drove him to begging before. Oswald’s face flushed at the memory. 

“You’re a sadist.” He accused, whining again. 

“I suppose that makes you a masochist.” Victor replied cheerfully. He hopped off the bed and Oswald was suddenly deprived of Victor’s body pressed to his own.

The absence made him feel incredibly exposed and the way Victor looked over his naked form didn’t help. He shifted around on his back in a vain attempt to cover himself. 

“I’m going to get some toys, since apparently it’s going to be a long night.” Victor explained, standing there in just his underwear and showing no intention to put anything else on while he fetched his ‘toys’. 

Victor was infinitely more experienced than Oswald was, and Oswald couldn’t even name half of the things Victor had stored away in a black matte box. Therefore, he couldn’t guess what Victor would come back with… But he had the feeling that they would only increase his torment. 

“Victor, wait-“ 

His pride stung at giving in so easily, but he could barely hold out as it was. He knew that when Victor came back, probably wielding crops and floggers and plugs and God only knew what else, it would just make things worse. 

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t go. I want you.” 

Victor lowered his hand from the doorknob and began to walk back to the bed, Oswald could have sighed with relief if he wasn’t still so keyed up. 

“How do you want me?” Victor asked, his voice soft, but unyielding. Oswald was very fond of his voice when he spoke like that.

He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, steeling himself to say words that he was inordinately embarrassed by. 

“I want you… I mean… Could you… Could you touch my, uh… My cock?” His mouth was dry. He swallowed. “Please?”

When he opened his eyes, Victor was smiling at him. He thought he might tease him for being so prudish, even now, but he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded and said softly that he would.


	3. Sex With Clothes Half On (Harvey x Nicewald)

If someone had asked Harvey Bullock how he would be spending his time that evening, screwing Oswald Cobblepot would not have been his answer. Heck, it wouldn’t have been close to his answer. Even if he had been given a thousand chances to guess at what he would be doing, it wouldn’t have entered his mind as a possibility.

For one, he had plans. Nothing fancy. Pizza and beer and an old Arnie flick. He felt like he deserved some quality time to himself. He was looking forward to it.

Then, there was the fact it was _Oswald Cobblepot._ He wasn’t exactly Harvey’s ‘type’.

Finally, Oswald Cobblepot was meant to be in Arkham. Forever, as far as Harvey was concerned. After all, it’s not like anyone could actually cure that little weasel. Harvey didn’t reckon there was a cure for being a self-serving, sneaky, slimy little snitch. 

Yet… Screwing Oswald was exactly what he spent that night doing. 

He ran into the little guy on his way home from work. It was raining, and he looked like a drowned rat. 

At first, Harvey had thought ‘good’, but then… Something in him paused. 

He knew that he shouldn’t, but he went over to him. 

“Hey, Penguin. Lost your umbrella?” He teased. He didn’t have one himself, but his hat kept the worst of it away from his eyes and hair, although his jacket was quickly getting soaked through.

Instead of the snarky or biting comeback that Harvey had been expecting, Oswald laughed meekly and explained his situation. Harvey listened. He asked questions. 

The funny thing was, as implausible as what Oswald was telling him was, he believed him.

He invited him home. Despite the nagging voice in the back of his head, he still invited him back to his place.

Oswald looked like he couldn’t believe it either. 

“What do you prefer, Terminator 2 or Predator?” Harvey asked once they got in. He wasn’t about to change his plans too much, if he could help it.

“I haven’t seen either of those.” 

“Seriously?”

“I’m afraid not. Are they good?” 

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Geez. You really are a weird one, you know that?”

“Yes. I’ve been told that before,” Oswald smiled, without a trace of his usual malice. He began rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. 

“You need a change of clothes.” Harvey said, changing the subject, because how _nice_ Oswald was being about everything was freaking him out a bit. “I don’t have anything in your size, but you can wear one of my shirts.”

“You don’t have to-“

“You look like you’ll freeze if you stay in those. You should take a shower too.”

“That’s very kind but I don’t want to-“

“You’re dripping everywhere as it is.” Harvey had collected the smallest, clean(ish) shirt from the wardrobe in his room and threw it over in Oswald’s general direction. He didn’t manage to catch it, but he picked it up afterwards with a sheepish, apologetic look on his face. “Go on, and I’ll pick out the movie.”

—

They watched the first Terminator movie, because Harvey found out he hadn’t seen that either.

About half way through, Oswald’s head slumped on the other man’s shoulder, and Harvey paused the movie. He nudged the smaller man, but he only made a soft sound of protest. 

“Cobblepot. Wake up.” He nudged him again. “Penguin?”

“I’m not the Penguin anymore. Just call me Oswald, please.” Oswald replied sleepily. 

“Sure, Oswald it is. Are you too out of it to watch the end of the movie?” 

Oswald nodded, mumbling an apology.

“I’ll take you to bed.”

—

Harvey led him to the bedroom and had every intention of turning back around and finishing the second half of the movie. However, before he could, Oswald began to talk.

Maybe it was because he’d shared some of his beer with the little guy, but he just wouldn’t stop talking. He went on and on about how he was sorry for all the hurt and inconvenience he had caused Harvey and everyone else, and how he was going to spend the rest of his life making up for it. He went on and on and on and on, tears welling up in his eyes as he spoke and eventually he no longer seemed tired, he just seemed sad.

“What the hell did they do to you at Arkham?” Harvey asked, when Oswald finally fell silent. 

Oswald was sitting on the bed, and had been staring up at him with wet, wide eyes but at that question he lowered them and began to rub them with his sleeve.

“Nothing that I didn’t deserve.”

“Bullshit.” Harvey sat down beside him, “They really screwed you up.”

Oswald sniffed and wiped his sleeve against his nose. “I’m better like this.”

“Hey, I’m not going to deny that you seem like a nice guy now, but it’s still messed up.” 

“You think I’m nice? Really?” Oswald asked, and Harvey nodded. Because it was the truth. “I appreciate that, but you’re just being kind. You’re a good man, Detective.”

“Not often I get accused of just being kind.”

“I’ve taken up enough of your time. I should go.” 

Oswald moved to get up, but Harvey anchored him to the bed with a hand on his wrist. Oswald had always been small, _scrawny,_ but now he seemed far more breakable.

Before Harvey could stop himself, he kissed him.

—

He didn’t need to take off the oversized shirt that Oswald was wearing, he could simply push it up the smaller man’s torso to kiss where he wanted to kiss. Oswald was already gasping and writhing beneath him before Harvey had even gotten to the good part. 

It turned out Oswald was a virgin, which wasn’t much of a surprise to Harvey, and so he told himself to keep it slow, gentle.

He turned Oswald over onto his stomach and pulled down his underwear to just below his ass. 

Thankfully he had lubricant, and he was generous with it, making things nice and slick before pushing his fingers knuckle deep into the bent over man’s hole. Oswald moaned loudly, then it became muffled. The little guy was biting on a pillow. 

“Too much?”

Oswald shook his head. 

“You let me know if it hurts, okay?” 

Oswald nodded. 

Oswald’s willing submission spurred Harvey on and made the desire bubble up inside of him until it was almost unbearable. He hadn’t planned the night to end up this way, but it had, and as he buried his cock deep inside of Oswald’s ass, he found that he had absolutely no regrets that it had.


	4. Someone Straddling The Other While They’re “Trying To Read” (Zsasz x Ed)

“How many times are you going to read the same page?”

Victor looked up from his book, and Ed smiled at him.

“Well?” The bespectacled man asked, while looking very pleased with himself. 

He was straddling Victor, an unusually forward move for him. Although, Victor supposed that it was flattering. He’d been gone for ten days and Ed was clearly pining for a little overdue ‘attention’.

“I’m trying to read and you’re making it difficult to concentrate.” He replied, watching as Ed rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically. It was kind of adorable, but irritating. With some amusement, Victor realised that description was a rather accurate one for Ed in general. “You’d be pissed if I interrupted you when you were reading something.”

“True, but I would be reading something far more important than the pulpy trash you’re _pretending_ to read.” Ed teased. 

“I know you’re just trying to get a rise out of me so that I give you some attention.” Victor began, before he was interrupted, once again, by Ed.

“Am I so transparent?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around Victor’s shoulders and moving closer to him, until his front was pressed against the back of Victor’s book.

“But keep this up and the only attention you’re going to get from me is a spanking,” He finished, and Ed didn’t have a good enough pokerface to keep surprise from flashing over his features. Victor smirked and put his book down on the side of the couch.

Taking that as a warning, Ed jumped off of his lap.

“That’s not fair. I just wanted to have some fun with you.” He complained. 

Victor shrugged. “I think this could be fun.” He began to roll up one of his sleeves so that it rested just above his elbow. Ed eyed up the door. “Unless you’d rather I go back to my book?”

Ed stared at the door for a few more seconds, before he let out a small frustrated groan and accepted his fate. “Not too hard, okay?”

Victor was surprised Ed was going along with it. He had thought he would let him go back to his book. However, he didn’t mind. Ed could use a good spanking, and he always looked good lying over his lap with his ass raised and waiting.

“Of course not.” He patted his lap.

“And afterwards…?”

“We’ll see.” 

Once Ed was lying over his thighs, Victor ran his hand over the seat of the other man’s green dress pants. Ed shifted in anticipation.

“Maybe I should give you a few swats with the book you called ‘pulpy trash’.” Victor suggested playfully, patting him on the ass. 

Ed tried to get up at that and let out a short outraged cry, and Victor reassured him with a light swat of his hand. “I’m joking. I’m joking. I know that you couldn’t take it. It _is_ a hardback after all.” He teased.

“I _could_ take it. I just don’t want to.” Ed insisted, sounding like he might just agree to it in order to prove Victor wrong. Victor wasn’t about to do that though. He had been looking forward to reading his book, but he would be lying if he’d claimed that Ed’s distractions were completely unwanted. 

As he felt the warm, lean body lie over his lap, he was reminded of how much he’d missed him. Even if he was a bit overbearing at times.

He swatted him twice on the butt, not hard enough to _really_ hurt, but hard enough to make Ed yelp. 

“Ouch! Ow! I said ‘not too hard’!” Ed whined.

“That wasn’t hard. I barely touched you.” 

“Well, it _hurt_.” 

“Poor thing.” Victor teased, rubbing where he had slapped. He was sure that Ed was exaggerating, because he always did. “Do you want to stop?”

“I can take more than that.” Ed said, after a moment of quiet contemplation, and Victor squeezed one of his round asscheeks until Ed moaned. “Victor…”

Victor swatted him again, a little harder this time. He gradually built up the pace, peppering the seat of Ed’s pants with quick, stinging slaps that had Ed gasping and squirming but were nowhere near hard enough to leave him anything more than a light shade of pink. 

“Ow… Oh… Oh.”

At some point Ed had grabbed one of the decorative cushions that sat on the couch and he was squeezing it tightly as Victor warmed him up. He was becoming hard against Victor’s thighs, and Victor was getting turned on too. 

“After this, you’re getting fucked.” 

“Yes.”

“Over the back of the couch or in the bedroom?”

“The bedroom, please- Ah- Ah, that _stings._ ”

“You’ll take off your clothes and wait for me.”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Ed was practically writhing over the firm surface of Victor’s thighs and the sight of that pert, perfect ass moving up and down in front of him was just too much for Victor to bear. 

He gave it a final slap. 

“Go. I’ll be up shortly.”

Ed did as he was told, but before he exited, Victor caught a glimpse of how flushed his face was. It was probably pinker than his ass. 

Well, for now at least. 

Victor had picked up a few ‘surprises’ during his trip, and he hoped that Ed would try some of them with him later…


	5. Laughing During Sex (Ed x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to youhavebeenwarmed for brainstorming a bit with me on this one.

It had been a wonderful evening.

Oswald had made sure to spoil Ed completely, because it was his birthday, and he deserved to be spoiled.

Other people might have blushed and shied away from such an outpouring of attention and affection, but Ed didn’t. He took every crumb of affection that was offered and was still hungry for more.

“Later tonight, I will have more surprises for you.”

“Oh?”

Oswald smiled and ran his hand down Ed’s arm until he linked his with Ed’s. “You can have anything you want from me tonight, Edward. Anything at all. I will be your willing slave.” 

He felt rather debauched whenever he spoke like that, but Ed’s eyes lit up and his nerves that he had overstepped began to calm. 

“I would like that very much.” Ed replied, the low pitch of his voice and keen glint in his dark eyes made Oswald’s heart skip a beat and his face heat up until he almost felt like it was _his_ birthday.

—

However, the heat didn’t fade. 

They finished dinner and Oswald still felt feverish. More than feverish, he felt downright poorly. He hoped that he didn’t pique Ed’s suspicions by excusing himself from dinner three times to secretly throw up whatever he had just eaten of the lovely meal that Olga had prepared for them.

It would have been sensible to tell Ed that he felt unwell, but he didn’t want to disappoint him. He didn’t want to go back on his promise to make this the best birthday that Ed had ever had. 

He didn’t want it to conclude the day with him miserable and sick in bed while Ed watched a movie by himself or read a book, no doubt secretly disappointed to end yet another birthday by himself.

He could be sick tomorrow. Tonight, he would endure.

—

“Oh, Oswald…” Ed was stretched out on the bed, arching his back as Oswald lay down a trail of gentle kisses from his chest to the base of his abdomen. 

“You look beautiful,” Oswald sighed softly, trying to ignore the swirling feeling in his head as he struggled to stay upright. Instead, he tried to focus on Ed. 

He had asked Oswald to ride him, something he had not done before, and Oswald had agreed. Even without the fever, that would have been something he would struggle to do. Besides having to be careful of his bad leg, Oswald preferred positions where he was less on display. Or ones where he could bury his face into a pillow and try to forget how ridiculous he must look.

“I want to see you.” Ed had told him earlier, a hand resting on Oswald’s cheek. “But I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Oswald placed a hand over Ed’s. It was his birthday. How could he have refused him?

“I’ll look absurd.”

“You won’t. You’ll look great.”

Oswald hadn’t believed him, but he’d nodded anyway. “I’ll do it then, for you.”

Oswald stroked Ed’s cock, making it slick and ready for him, and Ed reached out to rest a hand on his lover’s arm. He pulled him forwards, probably intending to kiss him tenderly on the lips, when Oswald suddenly felt an uncontrollable itching inside of his nose and…

He sneezed.

He sneezed all over Ed’s face.

He was almost surprised he hadn’t knocked the poor fellow’s glasses off due to the sheer force of it.

“Oh my gosh, Ed- Ed I- Oh gosh-“ He stammered, absolutely mortified, and certain that Ed would be horrified at such a disgusting thing happening to him. On his _birthday._ “I’m so sorry!”

Ed reached blindly for the box of tissues on the bedside table and after a few tries, he reached them. He wiped his face with a couple, a soft, slightly muffled sound coming from him. 

For a horrible moment, Oswald thought he had made him cry.

But then he realised, Ed was laughing. He handed Oswald a tissue too, and the smaller man took it, although he was still confused.

“Ed?” He asked nervously.

Ed continued to laugh, “I thought something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me you have a cold?”

“I don’t!” Oswald gasped, but Ed smiled in such a way that compelled him to come clean a mere moment later. “Okay, maybe I do have a _slight_ cold-“

“Is that why you kept leaving dinner too?”

Oswald lowered his eyes, nodding while mumbling out an affirmative response.

“Can I make a confession?”

Oswald looked up, confused.

“I’ve not been feeling all that great myself today. Or yesterday. But I didn’t want to disappoint you. You were so excited about everything you’d arranged for us to do together.” Ed looked almost sheepish. It was a rare expression for him, but not an unpleasant one at all. However, Oswald’s attention was grabbed more by the words he was saying. “In fact… That was part of why I wanted you to be on top tonight, so I could just lie back and enjoy you.”

A few moments after Ed’s confession, both men were silent, but then, they began to laugh. 


	6. Sex On A Table (Zsasz x Oswald)

“I don’t like the way he touches you.” Victor didn’t bother to wait until after Jim had left the room to complain to Oswald. The detective heard what he said and paused for a moment, but then he left. He had probably concluded that it was better to leave without butting heads with Victor when it could be avoided. Victor was almost impressed. He had half expected Jim to stomp back over to them and start something out of Victor’s little criticism.

“Please. It’s hardly unusual behaviour for Jim.” Oswald rolled his eyes, straightening his somewhat crumpled suit jacket which had been made wrinkled by Jim’s aggression. “He just can’t help himself.”

“Why do you let him do that? You know that if you gave me the word, I’d _make_ him let you go.” Oswald shrugged at the question, shrugged and avoided Victor’s eyes. Victor took a step forwards and put a hand underneath the other man’s chin. He didn’t force Oswald to look at him, but he did gently prompt him to. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Excuse me?” Oswald’s cheeks went scarlet. 

“Do you enjoy being roughed up by him?”

“Why on earth would I… Absolutely not. That is ludicrous.” He denied it, but the way he stammered over his words, and the blush across his face, told Victor otherwise.

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I don’t.”

“I wouldn’t be angry.”

“For God’s sake! I am telling you, I don’t get turned on by Jim Gordon manhandling me!” Oswald’s voice seemed to become louder than he had meant it to be, and Victor couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how adorable he was when he became angry. It was true that he could also be very deadly when infuriated, but that was hardly a concern for a skilled killer such as Victor. Although Oswald had never tried to hurt him physically, not even during some of his more extreme ‘tantrums’.

Victor curled his hands around the lapels of Oswald’s jacket, much like Jim had mere minutes ago, and he pulled the smaller man in for a kiss. A kiss that would bruise. He’d kissed Oswald many times before this, but always softly. However, despite the unfamiliar sharpness of this kiss, Oswald seemed to melt into him. When it ended, he whined ever so sweetly, and looked up at Victor, eager for another.

“So you don’t care if you’re roughed up by Jim, but how about me? How would you like that?” He asked, enjoying how his hold on Oswald’s jacket forced the other man to stay close. So close that he could see every faint freckle that graced his face, so close that he could see every quiver of his lips, every nervous blink. Oswald nodded wordlessly the instant he had finished his question. 

His eagerness pleased him, so Victor decided not to waste any time in fulfilling Oswald’s request. He pushed him backwards until he hit a wall. He didn’t go too hard, because this was just for fun, but he did make sure his back met the flat surface with a satisfying thud.

Then he kissed him again, on the lips at first, then the neck. He made sure to leave marks. Oswald would get t sh at him about them later, but he could just wear a scarf if he really didn’t want people to see them. The fact that it was July didn’t factor into Victor’s thoughts.

“Here?” Victor suggested, tipping his head in the general direction of the long table that was generally used for meetings with Gotham’s criminal underworld. 

“What?”

“Let’s do it here.”

Oswald’s eyes moved between the table and Victor, he seemed to be somewhere between nervous and excited. “But what if someone sees us?” He pointed out. 

“Like who?” Victor replied, not too worried about that. He wasn’t shy, but he also thought Oswald’s worry was unlikely to come true. 

“I don’t know… Olga?” His voice jumped when Victor began to kiss him again. Oswald pushed him away, and for a moment, Victor wondered if he had misjudged the situation. But Oswald soon dispelled that by taking Victor by the wrist and leading him over to the table. 

“Oswald?” 

“Here.” Oswald confirmed, once they were standing by one side of it, “Take me here.”

“What changed your mind?” Victor chuckled, running his hands over the brocade of Oswald’s tie and resting his fingers on the knot. He began to undo it as he listened to his response.

“You know what.” Oswald blushed.

“Too much excitement?”

Oswald huffed impatiently. “Why are you wasting time taking off my tie? I agreed to this because I want you _now._ ”

Victor enjoyed when Oswald got a little petulant with him. He couldn’t help it. He liked to tease and Oswald always had such amusing reactions to such treatment. “You’re too loud. I’m going to gag you.”

Oswald’s eyes grew wide. Victor smirked. 

“That okay?”

Oswald nodded. Victor turned him around so that he was facing the table, then bent him over it. Once he was over, he told him to open his mouth, and he wrapped the necktie around his head so it acted as an impromptu gag. There was a soft whine from behind the fabric as soon as it was put on, but Oswald made no move to get up, and he seemed far from distressed, so Victor continued. 

“I’m going to fuck you hard. That’s how you want it. Right?”

Oswald nodded again. Another whine. Even more impatient sounding this time.

Victor patted him on the ass. “I’ll be right back.”

When Victor returned, he wasted no time in pushing up Oswald’s coattails and shirt so that they sat on his back. Then, he pulled down his pants and underwear so that they pooled around his ankles.

He was going to be rough, but that didn’t mean he would hurt him. Lubrication was a must. He knew that Oswald’s idea of a hard fuck and his own were probably quite different. 

He got on his knees and prepared him with his tongue and his fingers. He made him gasp and squeak behind the gag, it muffled sounds rather than muted them completely. 

“You’re so cute.” He murmured, two of his fingers knuckle deep in Oswald’s ass. He wasn’t sure if Oswald heard him over all the moaning he was doing. “When I see guys like Jim push you around, I just want to slaughter them.” He removed his fingers and pecked Oswald on the left side of his ass. Once he got onto his feet, he immediately started fucking him.

Victor held onto his hips to keep him in place. He moved hard and fast and soon Oswald’s fingernails were digging into the surface of the table, soon he was moaning loudly, even despite the necktie that was clenched between his teeth. 

He had no doubts that Oswald had once had a crush on Jim, although Oswald seemed unable to admit that. He still got all gooey around him, looking up at him with an eager to please smile and a softness that was nearly always rejected with harsh words or a grumble of disapproval.

How Oswald felt about Jim didn’t bother him. He wasn’t that insecure. However, someone mistreating his man _did_ bother him. Even if Oswald insisted that he didn’t mind.

He growled slightly at the thought, letting the frustration add yet more fuel to the movements of his hips. Oswald all but wailed, and a few moments later, he came. Victor followed. 

He ran a hand over Oswald’s back, gratified when he saw the other man look over his shoulder at him. His eyes wet, his face flushed, but his expression utterly fond, utterly content. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said softly, reaching forwards to untie the gag.


	7. “Oh fuck, yes. Bite me again.” (Zsasz x Oswald)

Sometimes Oswald found himself staring at Victor.

Whenever the assassin turned around, a curious expression on his face, Oswald would lower his eyes and pretend (badly) that it had just been a fleeting glance, by chance, not a long, lonely, desperate stare.

He knew it was pathetic. 

He was a grown man and yet he was mooning over someone like a lovesick teenager. It was a disturbing trend that he’d noticed in himself. He would become smitten, lovesick, and spend hours upon hours just _pining_. Uselessly. Unrequitedly. It had happened with Jim Gordon. It had happened with Edward Nygma. Now it was happening with Victor Zsasz.

Would he ever learn?

“Penguin?”

Oswald was jolted out of his thoughts by Victor’s voice. 

“Ah, um… Yes?” He smiled his brightest smile at Victor. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if a smile would make him love him. It probably just made him seem pitifully eager. 

Eager for what though?

Oswald knew what he wanted, but he didn’t dare dwell on it for too long. 

The more he thought about it, the more he would want it.

Victor smiled back, and Oswald practically melted in his seat. He actually had to restrain himself from letting out a soft sigh of happiness. Victor squeezed his shoulder and the warmth of his touch spread all through his body, making him feel incredibly alive.

“You look very nice today.” 

Oswald gasped quietly. 

“You suit this colour.” Victor tapped Oswald’s deep red necktie, letting his fingertips run gently over the fabric. “And I like it when I can see your freckles. Sometimes I can’t though. Do you use makeup or something?”

Oswald nodded wordlessly. 

“You must be good at it. I couldn’t tell.”

“I have terrible skin.” Oswald could have hit himself. Telling Victor that he had bad skin was not very attractive. There was no need for him to know that. But, fool that he was, he’d let it slip out because he had wanted to say _something._

“Oh?” Victor removed his hand from Oswald’s tie and Oswald ran his own hand over his face with a groan.

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s okay. I think your skin is fine.”

Oswald snorted before he could help himself. At least he wasn’t the only one prone to saying strange things. 

“Do you have freckles anywhere else?”

Oswald’s eyes widened. He looked at Victor and Victor smiled mischievously. 

“Can I see them?”

—

Victor kissed down the inside of Oswald’s thighs, all the way down to where the freckles stopped, just before the knee. He wasn’t covered in them, but they were sporadically dotted over his whole body. Pale and pink and sometimes brown. Oswald hated them. Victor seemed oddly fascinated by them.

“Turn over?” Victor asked, popping up and looking at Oswald, who nodded between short, desperate breaths.

He moved out of the way and Oswald rolled over onto his stomach. 

As soon as he did, he pressed his face deep into a pillow and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was happening. 

Victor kissed him on his back, on his left shoulder blade. Twice. Oswald didn’t know if he had freckles there. Then his lips worked their way down his spine. 

Victor’s hands curled around Oswald’s narrow waist and he pulled him up gently onto his knees. Oswald let him, but he whimpered out a soft, “What are you doing?”

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“It’s… It’s not that I just-“ Oswald squeaked when he felt Victor’s lips ghosting over the cleft of his ass. “I don’t have freckles there!”

Victor chuckled. He placed his hands on Oswald’s ass and encouraged him to spread for him. Oswald bit down on the pillow. Not because he was scared of Victor hurting him, but because he worried about embarrassing himself with even more ridiculous noises. 

Victor’s tongue, warm and wet, began to lap over his asshole. Occasionally, he would take a brief break to suck on the soft skin of one of his buttocks, leaving light, tender marks in his wake. Oswald’s breathing grew heavy and his head began to spin. He was thankful that Victor couldn’t see his face. He had no idea what expressions he was pulling but he was sure his face must be a most unflattering shade of red. 

“Victor, please- Ah… That…” He pawed at the mattress for a few moments, before reaching down to touch himself. He had resisted out of some convoluted sense of pride, but that seemed a bit redundant when Victor already had him moaning like he was.

Victor bit his right ass cheek, not so hard that it hurt, but hard enough to startle him. Oswald let out a noise that he’d never heard himself make before. It was somewhere between a squeak and a moan.

“Sorry, was that too much?” Victor rubbed a hand over the marked skin, kneading it in his palm. 

“Don’t. Don’t.” Oswald shook his head. “Don’t stop.”

Victor’s breath caught in his throat. “Do you want me to do it again?”

Oswald nodded. 

“Tell me.”

Oswald moaned desperately. “Bite me again.”

So Victor did.


	8. "Have you ever tried rimming?" (Harvey x Ed)

Ed turned another page of ‘The A-Z of Sex and Eroticism: A Guide’ and hummed thoughtfully. “So… Choking is out, because you’re boring, but what about rimming?”

“Have you ever tried rimming?” Harvey asked. He wasn’t half as interested in the book as Ed was, but Ed had his mind set on looking through the whole thing, or until he found something that they both wanted to try.

“No.” Ed admitted, turning another page. He was trying to sound indifferent about his lack of experience, despite the fact that it was something that often made him blush whenever Harvey pointed it out. Harvey seemed to be trying hard not to tease him about it now.

Instead he just shrugged and simply said, “It’s not that exciting.”

“Maybe you’re just not good at it.” Ed replied back, a little snippily. He knew Harvey well enough to be able to tell that he was tempted to make fun of him a bit.

Harvey snorted and grabbed the book from Ed’s hands. Ed gasped. 

“Hey!” He protested.

Harvey flipped forwards a couple pages and laughed as Ed tried to grab the book back. He held it just out of reach and put a hand on Ed’s forehead to keep him at bay, like a school bully. 

“Hey, how about spanking? Seems like you could use one of those.” He teased, letting Ed struggle for a few more seconds then returning the book to him. 

Ed huffed and held it to his chest protectively, so it couldn’t be snatched away again.

“I would prefer shibari.” 

“What?”  
  
“Shibari is Japanese rope bondage, it’s practically an art form and is-“

Harvey held his hands up. “I really don’t care, Ed. Look, you’ve been reading that book for nearly two hours. I just want to get to the good stuff.”

Ed opened his mouth to protest, but Harvey silenced him with a kiss. He moved forwards, pushing Ed back against the bed until he was on top of him, and that damned book was sandwiched between their bodies. His kisses grew hotter and heavier with urgency, moving from Ed’s lips and to his throat, then his collarbone. Ed threw the book away so Harvey could get at his chest, his stomach. He sighed impatiently and arched his back into the kisses.

“Do you still want to try it?” Harvey asked, sitting back and running his hands over the inside of the other man’s long, lean thighs. 

“What?” Ed asked back, face flushed and glasses slightly askew. He reached up to straighten them as Harvey answered him.

“Rimming.”

“I thought you didn’t like it.” That wasn’t really a reason for Ed to not want to do it, he wasn’t that selfless, but he didn’t think it was worth experimenting in if Harvey would be unenthusiastic. 

“Well, you have a better ass than most of the people I’ve slept with.” Harvey smirked as Ed’s face brightened.

However, that only lasted for a moment before Ed tilted his chin up and he regarded Harvey with a haughtiness that made him look all the more like he needed that spanking Harvey had mentioned earlier. “Most?”

Harvey scoffed in amusement. “Top five.” He grinned. “Or at least… Top ten.”

“You’re just trying to annoy me.” Ed complained. “You know that- Ah!”

Harvey grabbed him by the waist and flipped him over onto his stomach. “I need a closer look. My memory’s a bit foggy.”

“Harvey-“ Ed gasped as Harvey hooked his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and yanked them down. Then, he ran his hands over the soft skin of Ed’s ass. He made a sound as if he was weighing up where it ranked, and Ed let out a frustrated huff. “Well?” 

Harvey didn’t respond, but just as Ed was about to get at him to answer, he felt Harvey’s tongue lick against the cleft of his ass. His hands spread his cheeks, exposing his hole, and that allowed the hot, wet, muscular organ to get at it more easily. Ed moaned and moved back against the other man’s mouth insistingly. The bristles of Harvey’s beard were a little prickly, a little uncomfortable, but he didn’t mind it. 

For someone who purported not to be enthusiastic about rimming, Harvey was good at it. Ed’s hands were twisted in the bedsheets and his face was twisted against the pillow.

“Oh goodness…” He panted, hips squirming to try to encourage Harvey to keep going, to give him _more._

Then suddenly, Harvey stopped.

Ed squeaked. 

Harvey patted him on the ass, “I think that’s enough for now.”

Ed had never disagreed with Harvey more, and they disagreed a lot. The absence of the warmth was keenly, unbearably felt, and he wanted it back. Harvey noticed, and chuckled.

“More.” Ed demanded, a rare single-word response. Because he was desperate. 

“Sure. Just not with my tongue.” 

Ed grunted softly in agreement and Harvey stroked his cock into readiness. Both men were impatient, so he was quick to push inside of him, and Ed moved back against the length, shamelessly greedy for it. The sex was over in a matter of minutes, but it had been satisfying. It had been rough and eager, and afterwards, Ed and Harvey sunk into each other’s bodies. 

“Alright, I admit it. Rimming is okay.” Harvey said, after a few minutes of catching their breath had passed.

“Does this mean we can try shibari next time?” Ed asked, surprisingly brightly, especially for someone who had spent the last minute or two panting and catching his breath. If it had been anyone other than Ed, Harvey might have thought it was cute.


	9. "You're all mine." (Strange x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The consent in this is dubious. Oswald doesn't want to do it, but does because he wants out of Arkham.

By the first time they met, Oswald had already decided that he didn’t like Professor Strange. He’d made his mind up before he’d laid eyes on him, because he was sure that anyone in charge of somewhere like Arkham was not worthy of his admiration.

Meeting him confirmed what he’d already declared to himself.

When he had been a kid, he had been sent to the school counsellor. Apparently, stabbing a classmate in the hand with a metal compass for calling your mother horrible names was classed as ‘worrying behaviour’. Strange reminded him of that counsellor. He supposed that all psychiatrists, counsellors, therapists, and the like were the same.

The man was untrustworthy. Insincere. He would smile ‘warmly’ and nod his head, but Oswald couldn’t believe he actually gave the smallest amount of a crap about him or his ‘unfortunate’ (as Strange called it) situation.

However, there was one thing about Professor Strange that differentiated him from the school counsellor Oswald had been sent to. 

Strange  _scared_ him.

He couldn’t quite put into words why, and he certainly wasn’t about to admit it. After all, Strange couldn’t really have been responsible for Nigel clawing out his own eyes. Could he?

His fear made him hostile. So hostile that it meant Strange saw it necessary to take a more ‘intensive’ approach towards his ‘treatment’. 

Oswald was almost certain that had always been the plan anyway.

He’d scoffed at first, but that attitude did not last for long. Talking therapy was tedious, but it was heaven compared to what he was subjected to in its place.

Torture was the only word for it.

A few sessions and Oswald had taken all he could bear. He couldn’t go through it again. He couldn’t. 

Strange said it was ‘making him better’, but it wasn’t. 

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He spent every hour that he wasn’t in therapy worrying about what the next session would be like.

When the guards dragged him to his next appointment and slammed the door shut behind them, Oswald fell to his knees and started to beg. He promised that he would be good, he would answer whatever questions Strange had for him, he would do _anything_ , just so long as he didn’t have to be strapped into that horrid device again. 

“I’m sorry, Oswald, but it is necessary for you to heal. I know that there is a level of discomfort involved but-“  
  
“Discomfort?” Oswald balked, “Discomfort? It’s torture!”

Strange raised his eyebrow ever so slightly, and Oswald cringed, he hadn’t meant to snap at him. After all, he was trying to convince him to spare him, to show him a little mercy. He had to seem humble.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but I simply can’t go through another session like last time. It’s too much. I can’t take it anymore. Please, believe me when I say that I will do whatever you tell me, so long as you don’t use that machine on me anymore.” He clasped his shaking hands together and looked up at Strange, desperately praying that the man had some semblance of pity for him. 

The other man didn’t say anything for a moment, and Oswald’s heart pounded anxiously in his chest. He tried again with a whimper. “Please.”

Strange sat down on the chair behind his desk and without saying anything, he beckoned Oswald towards him with a crook of his finger. Oswald moved to stand up, but Strange interrupted him. “Stay on your knees.”

Oswald’s eyes widened. 

“Excuse me?”

“Crawl towards me on your knees.” 

The side of Strange’s mouth curved ever so slightly into a smile and anger began to swirl inside of Oswald’s gut. It raised up inside of him, threatening to spill out of his mouth in the form of shouts and insults and threats, but he forced it back down. 

If he wanted to get out of here in one piece, he needed to play Strange’s game.

So he crawled towards him, his bad leg crying out in protest as it moved against the uncomfortably hard floor. He felt ridiculous, and he was sure he looked ridiculous too because Strange let out a soft chuckle at the sight of him.

Once he was across from Strange, he looked up at him and forced himself to keep the hatred off of his face. He couldn’t see himself, so he wasn’t sure how successful he was. 

“Now, I want you to show me just how desperate you are.” Strange said, and his eyes glistened hungrily behind the pink lenses of his spectacles.

“What?” The rage in Oswald’s gut was quickly replaced with panic.

“You’re a clever man, Oswald. I am sure you can figure out what I mean.”

Oswald knew exactly what he meant, but he wished that he didn’t.

He had thought about doing this before, sucking a man off, but he hadn’t pictured it like this. In his fantasies, the man would run his fingers through his hair, pulling ever so slightly, and he would groan in a low, soft way and tell him how good it felt.

Oswald would be eager, he’d want to please him, and he would. More and more, his fantasies featured a certain gruff detective. Just imagining the noises Jim might make at being sucked by him was enough to make Oswald grow hard. 

Strange wasn’t like Jim. 

He also didn’t seem to be enjoying it all that much. His breath would catch in his throat every so often, but he was otherwise silent. After what had to be close to five minutes of Oswald trying desperately to coax him into hardness with his tongue and failing, Strange ordered him to stop.

Oswald did. It wasn’t like he was enjoying it either.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?” Strange asked, and Oswald found that the comment smarted. Was his inexperience so obvious?

“No.” He confessed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He began to get up, but Strange stopped him with a tut.

“Don’t get up. I’m not finished with you.”

Oswald opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again. He had to remember why he was doing this.

“Since your skills leave much to be desired…” Oswald’s jaw twitched, Strange continued. “Perhaps it would help if you used your tongue for other things as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me who you belong to.” 

Oswald couldn’t keep the scowl off of his face. 

“You,” he said, through gritted teeth. 

“Say it like you mean it, and touch me while you do.” 

If Oswald didn’t need Strange’s signature to get out of this hellhole, he would have leapt up and strangled him. But he _did_ need him, so he endured. He tried to think of it as a temporary humiliation that would lead to greater things, to his freedom, to revenge.

He wrapped his hand around Strange’s cock and began to stroke it like he would his own. “I’m yours.” He said, and he managed to almost sound like he meant it.

Strange closed his eyes briefly then opened them again, he looked up at the ceiling and let out a slow sigh. “That’s right. You’re all mine.” 

Oswald was glad that Strange couldn’t see the expression on his face, because he was sure that it was nothing short of murderous. He continued to stroke him until he was hard, saying that he was his, saying that he would do anything to please him, saying whatever Strange asked him to. When he got him hard, he took him in his mouth again and this time Strange gripped onto his hair. He pushed Oswald down onto his length, making him choke and gag. His eyes watered and he came close to throwing up more than once, but eventually, his efforts were rewarded with Strange groaning loudly and spilling his seed into Oswald’s aching mouth.

He had hated doing it, it hadn't been how he had imagined it at all, so he was relieved when it was over. 

As unpleasant as it had been, it was worth it to be spared from further torture.

Strange zipped himself back up and swirled his chair around so he was facing his desk. He pressed a small red buzzer and the two guards who had escorted Oswald to him came into the room. 

Oswald had only just stood up when they grabbed his thin arms and began to roughly guide him out of the room. 

“Take Mr Cobblepot back to his room. His session has been moved to tomorrow morning.”

Oswald’s mouth hung open and he let out an animalistic shriek at the betrayal, at the humiliation. 

“You bastard” He cried out, trying to lunge at Strange, but the guards held him firm. He kicked and he swore, he threatened him with everything that came to mind, and he did it all the way back to his room where Strange could no longer hear his screams.


	10. "Oh my. I didn't know you could move like that." (Ed x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has hallucination Oswald in it.

Oswald seemed to melt into him, his head resting on Ed’s chest, his arms wrapped around him, and his voice soft, affectionate.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” He mumbled, “So very lucky.”

Ed felt like the lucky one. To think he had almost killed him.

That was in the past. They were together now. What had happened between them before no longer mattered.

He put a hand underneath Oswald’s chin and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “I love you.”

As soon as he did that, the skin of Oswald’s face turned white, his lips blue. He smiled at Ed, but when he sighed happily, an overwhelming smell of sea water and bile filled Ed’s nostrils. He gasped, nearly retching at the sight and the scent. 

“I love you too, Ed.”

—

Ed woke up in a cold sweat. His head pounded and his eyes were wet with tears. The white cotton t-shirt he was wearing stuck to his skin. It was soaking. He choked down a whimper and reached for his glasses, he put them on, and when he did he heard a familiar chuckle from the faraway corner of the room.

“Oswald.”

“Oh my. You were really thrashing about. I had no idea you could move like that.”

“How long was I out for?” He asked, ignoring Oswald’s comment. He was the dripping, dead Oswald of his nightmare. He was just a figment of his imagination. Something he conjured up, either to punish or to comfort himself, he wasn’t quite sure. 

“See for yourself.” Oswald replied, gesturing vaguely to the clock on the nightstand and getting up from the chair he had been sat on.

Ed looked. It had been less than an hour.

He started to stand up from the bed, because his fear of nightmares outweighed his exhaustion, but Oswald appeared in front of him and blocked his path with his body. A body that wasn’t even really there. 

“You’re going to end up killing yourself, you know.” He told Ed, and for a moment Ed thought he sounded concerned.

He snorted in bitter amusement and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was moments like this that made him question whether or not Oswald was here to torment him or to look after him. 

When Ed didn’t say anything, the hallucination persisted. “Get back into bed, Edward.”

“I need a shower.” Ed replied. “I’ll go back after that.”

“No you won’t. We both know that.” Ed cursed beneath his breath. It was futile to try to hide things from someone who was only a projection of his own mind. “Change your clothes if you need to, but leave the shower until the morning.”

“And I suppose you’ll watch?” Ed asked, snippily, but Oswald didn’t look hurt. He simply shrugged.

“Only if you want me to.”

—

Ed changed into a fresh t-shirt and underwear then returned to bed. He lay down on his back, above the sheets. 

He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, Oswald was lying beside him. 

Ed opened his mouth to protest, but instead, he just sighed. “I had another dream about you.”  
  
“What sort of dream?”

“You were in my arms. I think we were at some sort of… Party. You said you loved me, I said I loved you too.” Ed watched as Oswald listened, his eyes seemed paler and more glazed over than they had in life. “I kissed you, then you were dead. Like you are now.”

“Huh.” Oswald had been on his side, facing Ed, but after hearing about Ed’s dream he rolled onto his back with a wet squelch. Ed could smell sea water again. “And did you mean it?”

“What?”

“That you love me.”

Ed paused. He knew the answer. Of course he had meant it. But he couldn’t bring himself to say that, not even to a man who wasn’t really there.

“Ed.” Oswald rolled back over, and his cheeks were flushed, almost as if he was alive. But he still smelled of sea water.

“What is it?” He asked, closing his eyes, afraid of the answer.

“Touch yourself for me.” 

Ed’s breath caught in his throat. He almost asked why, but then he didn’t. He did as he was told. 

He pulled down his underwear just enough to get at his cock, and he began to stroke it. He hadn’t the patience to start slow, he was quick and desperate and panting in a matter of moments. His long, lean form curled up into a gentle c shape as he panted, moaned, all while Oswald watched him without a word. 

It had been ages since he had last touched himself and longer still since anyone had touched him. He had wanted to, so much, but Oswald’s cold dead eyes had never let him. Whenever he wanted to, he was there, silently disapproving, and sometimes… Not so silently.

Now, he seemed to approve.

“Keep going… Tell me what you’re thinking about…” Oswald’s voice was gentle, seductive. Like he had all the time in the world. However, Ed felt like he had only seconds left before his heart exploded. 

“You. I’m thinking about you.” He gasped. He could feel his face heat up and fresh sweat soaked his forehead, making the dark brown curls of his hair stick to it.

“Be more specific.”

“I’m thinking about fucking you.”

“How?”

Ed groaned loudly. Impatiently. The head of his cock was dripping precum now. “Hard. You’re on your back, looking up at me, and you’re begging for more.”

“What am I saying?”

“Fuck me, please. Please, please. Please I need you.” Ed panted, his eyes squeezed shut, then opening, looking at Oswald desperately. “Please, I want you inside of me.”

Oswald reached out, and although he couldn’t touch Ed, the mere thought that he might was enough to send Ed over the edge with a howl of pleasure. 

He rolled onto his back again, more sweaty than he had been when he’d woken from his nightmare, but spent, satisfied. More satisfied than he’d felt for weeks. 

“Oh, Ed. You missed your chance.”

Ed looked over at Oswald, who remained for a moment, then disappeared. 

“You’re all alone.”

The euphoria that Ed had felt faded as quickly as it had came, and Ed began to wish he had ignored Oswald and just taken that shower after all. He was exhausted, but he didn’t want to go to sleep again. He was afraid of what he might dream.


	11. “They’re all watching the movie. They’re not even going to notice.” (Zsasz x Ed)

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Victor said, again. “We’ll get caught.”

Ed waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense. They’re all watching the movie, they won’t even notice we’re here. Now be quiet and enjoy.”

Victor looked over his shoulder at the rows upon rows of packed seats. 

He liked going to the cinema, but he preferred it when it was quiet. He also preferred it when it was a movie he actually wanted to see.

“I’d rather see Alien Covenant.” 

“Don’t sulk. This was the busiest theatre. Easier to hide in.”

Someone behind them shushed loudly and Victor sank into his seat. He hadn’t even had any time to buy popcorn.

—

Two hours later, Ed and Victor departed from the cinema. Ed was very pleased with himself, Victor was noticeably less so.

“That movie was terrible.”

“It was, but it worked. Barbara and her little pair of cronies are nowhere to be seen.” Ed beamed, gesturing at the empty street with great pride. “I told you, Victor, you need to trust me more. Remember, I’m the one with the brains.”

As soon as he said that, Ed’s face fell slightly and he tried to change the subject. He realised he had gone a bit too far. “A, Anyway-“

“What was that?” Victor took a purposeful step towards Ed and Ed took one back, Victor took another forward, and Ed’s back was pressed up against a streetlight. He gulped nervously, suddenly looking about half his age. “Repeat that for me.”

“It was only a joke…”

“Uh-huh.” Victor moved closer still, so close that he could feel Ed’s body tense and he could see a bead of sweat appear on his forehead. The side of his mouth curved into a smile as he thought about how fun it would be to make Ed plead out apologies here and now. In the street, where anyone might see.

But he knew that wasn’t sensible. 

That could wait.

“Let’s go.” He stepped aside to let Ed past, and the other man let out a sigh of great relief. Victor let him believe that he had been spared, for now.

—

Ed yelped loudly as the cane came down onto his ass, leaving a painful stripe in its wake. He twisted around to look up at Victor, his eyes wet with tears. “Victor, please!”

“Are you sorry?” The assassin asked, tapping the implement against his tender skin. He ran it over the stripes, enjoying how Ed hissed in discomfort. It was infinitely more entertaining than the movie had been. 

“I already said that it was a joke…” He whined, sniffling into his forearms in a way that was equal parts pitiful and adorable. Victor hit him again, and Ed sobbed. 

“I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Yes.” Ed agreed, whimpering. 

“Although you still have to make it up to me, so I think you should take me to the cinema again, but this time, I get to choose the movie.” Ed nodded and Victor put the cane aside. He knelt down behind Ed, straddling his legs, and rubbed his hands over the marks. “Good boy.”

Ed sighed softly, almost sulkily, but the way he tilted his hips up into Victor’s hands reassured him that he wasn’t actually all that upset. 

“Should I rub some lotion on you?” He asked, feeling the warmth, savouring how pliant Ed was being. He was always at his most agreeable after a thorough spanking. Not that he’d admit that. 

Ed shook his head, mumbled out a ‘no’. 

“How about an icepack?”

Ed shook his head again.

Victor brought one of his hands up to his mouth and wet his index finger with saliva. He pressed it to Ed’s hole and when it made contact, the other man let out a needy whine of approval. 

So that was what he wanted.

“You’re sure? You’re not too sore?” He moved back off of Ed’s legs so that he could kneel on the bed. 

“Far from it, I’ve had worse.” Ed boasted, apparently unable to help himself. Victor was almost certain it was a bluff.

He patted him on the ass and smiled as Ed flinched. “Not from me you haven’t. Who else has been spanking you?”

“No one.” Ed admitted, a moan escaping his lips as Victor pushed his finger forwards, pressing it into his hole. “Oh… Gosh…”

“If we do this quickly, we might catch the midnight screening of Alien.” Victor commented. He wasn’t sure why that comment provoked a short whine of complaint from his lover. He paid it no mind, and pushed in another finger.


	12. "I want you to ride me." (Zsasz x Oswald)

Oswald was sick. 

It was his own fault really.

Too much work and not enough rest. But Victor didn’t have it in him to scold him. He knew that work was important to Oswald, and he respected that about him. He understood what that was like, he wouldn’t force him to slow down unless he wanted to. 

“Your fever’s gone down a lot,” Victor said, his hand pressed on the other man’s forehead. 

“I should get back to work.” Oswald mumbled. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed. Yet he didn’t sound sleepy. Just quiet. Restrained. Even a little depressed.

“If you want. I can bring some of your papers through to you.” 

“I don’t really want to.” Oswald admitted, and Victor was a little surprised. He didn’t show it though, because Oswald’s eyes had opened into narrow slits and he was looking up at Victor’s face to see what he made of his last remark. Seeing nothing, he closed them again. “You know, I’ve never been on holiday. Mother never had the money.”

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Victor had travelled far more than Oswald had, because of the nature of his work, but he wasn’t about to say that. He didn’t think it would be appreciated. It was easy to make Oswald jealous.

“I don’t know.” Oswald sighed slightly as Victor took his hand away from his forehead. Victor sensed that he didn’t like the absence, so he put it back. He brushed away some wet strands of hair from Oswald’s forehead with his thumb as he did. “Gotham is my home. It wouldn’t feel right to leave it.”

“I’d come with you. If you went on holiday. If you wanted me to.” Victor didn’t know where Oswald would like to go, but he’d go with him anywhere.

But it was hard to imagine him anywhere other than Gotham. Perhaps that was part of the reason why Oswald had never taken a vacation even once he had the money to.

“I know you would.” 

—

That night, Victor lay beside Oswald, his arm wrapped loosely around the other man’s waist. Victor never fell asleep before Oswald, and when he did sleep, it was light. He couldn’t change that habit even if he wanted to. 

“Are you asleep, Victor?”

“No.” He opened his eyes and shifted a little closer to Oswald. He could see what he wanted even in the dim moonlight that shone through the curtains. He wanted it too. 

“I see.” Oswald didn’t ask for it, but he never did. Not with words anyway. He was too shy.

Victor kissed him on the lips, the first time he had since Oswald had gotten sick. Not because he had refused to, but because Oswald wouldn’t let him. He said that it would make Victor sick too, Victor doubted it. He had never had a cold in his life.

They kissed for a long time, because Victor had missed it, and apparently Oswald had too. When their breath became faster, heavier, Victor pushed Oswald onto his back and moved on top of him. He opened up Oswald’s pyjama top, exposing the pale skin beneath, and Oswald shivered.

“Sorry. Too cold?” He asked, pausing in his actions.

Oswald shook his head, face slightly flushed. “You could warm me up.”

Victor smiled, he ran his hands over the flat surface of Oswald’s chest. His heart was racing and underneath his palms, his nipples went hard. 

It wasn’t long before Oswald was panting again, impatiently. 

Victor was straddling him, his hands teasing Oswald’s torso, his throat, then, he pushed two fingers into Oswald’s waiting mouth. Oswald obediently sucked on them, making them so wet that they dripped. 

Victor let out a soft grunt. He had more patience than Oswald, but even his wasn’t limitless, and Oswald always looked so good on his back beneath him. His eyes flashed bright in the pale light and Victor could just make out the colours of his face, his eyes, his hair.

“I can feel you getting hard.” He commented, moving his hips backwards, rubbing against Oswald’s cock. Oswald moaned, not able to form words with Victor’s fingers in his mouth. Victor removed them. “I want you inside of me.”

Oswald’s eyes grew wide. Victor grinned.

“I want that too.” Oswald said, and that was all the encouragement Victor needed.

He unbuttoned his shirt with his spare hand and tossed it aside once he had finished. Then, he lowered his pants just enough so that his ass was bared. Without another word, he pushed the fingers that Oswald had soaked into his hole. He hissed slightly at the stretch, uncomfortable at first, but it didn’t take him long to adjust.

He tilted his head back and moaned, pushing his hips back so that he took in every millimetre up to the knuckle. 

When he looked down at Oswald, he was breathless. 

Their eyes met, and Oswald reached out. He put a hand on Victor’s thigh, because, from the look on his face, he was too overwhelmed to do anything else. 

He stroked his thigh affectionately, and Victor chuckled, but not unkindly. “No need to be shy.”

“You really want me to…” Oswald’s words drifted off after that point. Victor nodded. He removed his fingers, and leant down to kiss Oswald to encourage him. 

“But we’ve never… I mean… Not like this…” Oswald trailed off again once more, so Victor kissed him again.

“There’s a first time for everything. Just like there will be a first time for you to go on vacation.” He kissed him once more, and then moved his head down farther so he could nuzzle at the side of Oswald’s neck. “I don’t lie, Oswald. I want you like this.”

Oswald finally had built up enough nerve to put both of his hands on Victor’s body. He ran them over his back, all the way down to his ass. But he stopped there. He didn’t dare go any farther. He didn’t dare touch Victor’s hole. 

“I want you too.” He whispered, voice trembling with need. 

“You want me to ride you?” Victor prompted, shivering pleasantly at the touch. He had never been shy, but Oswald was exceptionally so, and he liked it. 

“I want you to ride me.” Oswald confirmed, and after he said it, he swore quietly, as if he couldn’t believe that he’d actually voiced such desires aloud.

Victor sat up again and he pushed down Oswald’s pyjama bottoms so that his cock was freed. It was already dripping with precum, which was not a surprise given how Oswald was already gasping and whimpering. Victor wrapped one hand around it, to steady it, as he moved backwards onto it. As he did, he heard Oswald’s breath catch in his throat, and then he let out a trembling mewl that was surprisingly adorable, even for Oswald.

Once he got accustomed to Oswald’s girth inside of him, stretching him, he wrapped the hand that had been on Oswald’s cock around his own. He stroked himself as he rode him, soon joining Oswald in making obscene noises. The mattress creaked beneath them, but they had the house to themselves, so neither paid it any mind. 

Even Oswald’s timidity had to disappear at some point, and when Victor began to rock on his cock with great vigour and enthusiasm, he could no longer restrain his hands from running over the other man. He touched every inch of Victor’s body that he could reach, clearly appreciating the smoothness of it, the strength. 

Neither of them lasted long and while Oswald peaked first, Victor soon followed, aided by a few last desperate strokes of his hand. He moved off of Oswald’s cock, and leaned down to peck him rather chastely on the tip of his nose. Oswald laughed at that and as soon as Victor was beside him, he pressed his face to his chest to hide the wide smile that had come across his features. 

Victor wrapped his arm around his waist again, sated and sweaty, and above all, pleased that Oswald’s fever had cleared up.


	13. “You’re pathetic. If I wasn’t willing to fuck you, no one would." (Ed x Nicewald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains dubious consent, rough sex, and Ed being a major dickbag.

Ed was angry. He was hurt. Oswald had been his only friend, and he’d _changed._

He wasn’t the same man anymore. He wasn’t the man he had respected and looked up to.

They'd messed with his head in Arkham. Made him soft. Weak. He didn’t like it.

He’d shut the door on him, but then… For reasons he couldn’t quite understand, he had opened it again. He grabbed Oswald by the front of his heavy, tar-soaked coat and pulled him back into his apartment.

The smaller man squeaked, but then he smiled possibly the stupidest, most naive smile that Ed had ever seen. He didn’t squirm, he didn’t fight, he didn’t bark at Ed and demand he let him go.

He wasn’t Oswald.

Ed narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust you.”

“What?” Oswald asked, immediately looking hurt, _wounded_. It made Ed all the more frustrated at him.

“How do I know you won’t go to the GCPD and tell them about me?” He asked, hands curling tighter around Oswald’s lapels.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, old friend.”

“Not even if Detective Gordon asked you ever so nicely?” Ed demanded, pulling Oswald closer to him. Oswald began to tremble, to look afraid, and Ed felt a surge of power at that. The feeling was fast and mighty, like a tidal wave, and it nearly swept away his anger. But not quite. “I know how you feel about him.”

Oswald had never admitted that he had a thing for Jim, but Ed had eyes. He could see the way Oswald had looked at him. He could also remember how he had talked about him. 

When Oswald’s thug Gabe had carried Jim’s unconscious body into his apartment, Oswald had spent what seemed like hours fussing over Jim, before Ed had finally been able to prise him away and get him to sing along with the piano.

Not that he was jealous of Oswald’s feelings for the detective. He told himself that he didn’t care. 

Although, it did strike him as unfair. 

Oswald was infatuated with Jim because he had saved his life. 

Well, Ed had saved Oswald’s life too.

Why wasn’t he infatuated with him?

“I wouldn’t, I swear.” Oswald promised. Ed snorted. “Ed?” He was going pink in the face. Blushing. “You’re gripping me so tightly. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“Make it up to me then.” Ed wouldn’t have dared say that to the old Oswald, the real Oswald, but this was different. He may as well be a clone, an imposter. Or an Oswald shaped doll. 

He still looked pretty when he blushed, and his lips trembled so enticingly.

“Huh?” Oswald looked up at him cluelessly and that only increased Ed’s arousal. It Confirmed that he was the smarter one, the stronger one. He pushed Oswald down, and he was so rough that it made the other man cry out in pain when his knees hit the floor. But he stayed down. He didn’t resist.

“Make it up to me.” Ed repeated, growling out the words with more force. 

Oswald shivered on the floor, but then… He nodded. 

Ed had never gotten a blowjob before, although even he could tell that Oswald had never given one. He was clumsy. Occasionally his teeth would brush against Ed’s cock and Ed would tug on his hair and tell him to be more careful. Each time, Oswald would pop his mouth off of him and apologise. Ed wanted to slap him for stopping, but he restrained himself.

“Stop,” he said, when his impatience peaked. “Just stop. You’re useless. It doesn’t even feel good.”

That wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t as wonderful as Ed had been led to believe from bawdy work gossip, but it _had_ been good enough to get him hard. 

He glared down at Oswald, taking pleasure in being cruel to him. When Oswald’s eyes glistened with tears, he felt powerful, he felt like he could be a man like Jim Gordon. A man that some people would fall over themselves to please and he wouldn’t give them a crumb of affection in return, because they weren’t good enough for him.

“I could try my hand.” Oswald suggested, meek and timid. 

Ed rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’d mess that up somehow.”

“I’m sorry,” He started to shuffle onto his feet, wiping his eyes quickly with the back of his sleeve. Ed grunted impatiently and grabbed him. He pulled him forwards again, but this time when he shoved him downwards, he had him bent over a table. Oswald gasped and was about to speak, but Ed spoke first. 

“You’re pathetic.” He said, as he pressed down hard on the other man’s back, hard enough to make him whimper. “But I’ll fuck you, because if I don’t, no one else will. Especially not Jim Gordon.”

The foul language felt foreign on his tongue, he was more accustomed to saying ‘golly’ and ‘gee’ than ‘fuck’. But if Jim could say ‘fuck’, so could he.

He didn’t register Oswald’s reactions much after that. He yanked down his pants and his underwear and exposed his ass. He used his saliva as lubricant, but that was all the preparation Oswald got. After he had smeared the clear fluid over Oswald’s asshole, he pushed the head of his cock in forcefully. 

Oswald cried out loudly. Ed grunted lowly. 

He held onto Oswald tight enough to bruise and as he thrust, the table began to knock against the wall it sat beside. 

It was rough and quick and merciless. At some point, Oswald had started to sob, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. When he finished, it was with a satisfied moan of pleasure. He pulled out from him, and let the last drops of his cum drip onto Oswald’s ass. It was only then that he noticed that the other man was touching himself, sobbing, probably desperately trying to get some pleasure from the savage act.

He smirked. 

“You’re pathetic.” He repeated, and with a sob, Oswald came.


	14. “Just watch it with me. Maybe it will give us some ideas.” (Maroni x Oswald)

Oswald had made it to the age of thirty without ever seeing a pornographic film.

He had no interest in them. He had ideas of what they were like, and it turned his stomach. 

What he saw on the screen only confirmed what he had suspected. Yet, everyone else seemed to be enjoying it. Maroni, Frankie, Gabe, even a couple of guys whose names he couldn’t remember… 

They all appeared to think it was attractive. Desirable.

He tried not to look at the screen too much, but he couldn’t just stare at the floor because people would notice that. It would seem weird. Or worse, it would seem rude.

The film finished a few minutes after the woman let out a long, high-pitched moan, and the man growled of “Yeah, take it bitch.” for about the thousandth time. 

Oswald was relieved it was over.

They had another drink and after that, people began to leave. Oswald was eager to as well, but as he did, Maroni called out his name and told him to sit his ass back down. 

Oswald did as he was told, although he really didn’t want to.

He smiled as politely as he could. “Yes, Don Maroni?”

“You didn’t seem to be enjoying the movie, Penguin. Something you’re not telling me?” Maroni had a little sweat on his brow and he had drank a bit too much. Oswald had noticed that he couldn’t hold his drink as well as he thought he could. 

“I don’t know what you mean, sir. I suppose I’m a little… Well, old fashioned.” He laughed nervously, but Maroni’s expression didn’t change. His heart sped up in his chest. He wished he could have another drink. “I didn’t mean to cause any offence.” He added, hoping that might go over better than his poor attempts at humour.

Maroni scoffed, and Oswald felt a tiny amount of relief that he had at least stopped frowning at him. “Nah. No offence taken. You can’t help what you like.” He undid his tie and put it aside. One of the top buttons on his shirt popped open, Oswald noticed a hair poke through the new opening. Noticeably black against the white fabric of his shirt. He forced his eyes away.

“Thank you, Don Maroni.” He stood up, intending to try to leave again, but Maroni cut him off with an ‘ah, ah, ah’ and a point to the chair that Oswald had been sitting on. 

“I didn’t say you could leave.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal. I just want to show you something. Another movie.” 

Oswald opened his mouth to protest, he didn’t know if he could stand watching another one, but before he got any words out, Maroni was opening a DVD case and making his way over to the player. Oswald bit down a miserable groan.

It was nearly silent, but Maroni must have caught it, because he looked over at Oswald and smirked. 

He sat down, beside him this time, and pressed play. 

“Just watch it with me, Penguin. Maybe it will give us some ideas.” He grinned, and before Oswald knew what was happening, he wrapped a thick arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close.

—

The closest thing to porn that Oswald had seen before that night had been certain scenes in the soap operas that his mother would sometimes watch. However, usually when such a scene came on, she would shield his eyes with her hands, or if he was out of reach, scold him for watching. 

Apart from that, all Oswald could recall were the covers of some of the harlequin romances lying around their apartment. They were often covered in dust and he’d never actually seen his mother read any, but they were always there. He didn’t dare touch them, he felt that she would _know_ if he did, but he could look at the covers. Shirtless, virile looking men. Often with untamed, long hair. Their strong hands clutched onto some dainty looking young woman who gazed up at them, helpless and aroused. 

Oswald paid little mind to those women, but more than once he had found himself staring at the men.

When Jim had grabbed him, more than once now, by the arms or by the front of his shirt, he felt his heart quicken and he remembered those images from his childhood and adolescence. Jim wasn’t quite so wild as those men looked, but Oswald thought he had the same look in his eye.

He decided that he liked that about Jim.

After they finished the movie, Maroni grabbed him too, and Oswald felt his face flush pink and he cursed himself for his unfaithfulness. Unfaithfulness to a relationship that didn’t even exist, that would almost certainly never exist.

Maroni had shown him a film with two men this time. Oswald hadn’t liked it either. The acting had been bad and he only found one of the two vaguely attractive. However, it had been somewhat preferable to the one they had watched before it. 

“Ah!” Oswald gasped loudly as Maroni kissed him on the neck. Wet and warm and enough to make him shiver and his cock harden in his pants. Maroni noticed and began to stroke it through the black fabric. It took embarrassingly little for Oswald to cum. He moaned with a shudder and clung to the larger man, his face pressed into his shoulder, smelling the somewhat overpowering odour of his cologne.

Maroni chuckled and guided Oswald’s hand to the front of his own pants. Oswald hesitated, but Maroni growled impatiently and he obeyed with a whispered apology. He undid the zip at Maroni’s insistence and stroked his cock inexpertly. All the time, he kept his head buried into Maroni’s shoulder. It took Maroni longer to come than Oswald, but when he did, Oswald felt an odd sense of accomplishment. 

He wondered if he could ever get Jim to make such noises.


	15. "Wrap your hands around my throat." (Jim x Ed)

The question came suddenly and it took Jim by surprise.

“You still don’t trust me, do you?”

There was a note of hurt in Ed’s words, and it troubled Jim. He sighed roughly, wrestling between being honest and being kind.

“Not completely.”

Honesty won out.

“Sensible, I suppose. You always were clever.” Ed replied, tight and bitter. His eyes shone, and Jim felt like a jerk. “I should go.”

“Ed,” Jim caught the other man’s arm before he had a chance to retreat. “Don’t be like that. I trust you more than I did before all this started. Before we…” He trailed off. Blushed. “You know. Before things changed for us.”

It hadn’t been going on long. Only a couple of weeks. But it _had_ changed things.

“Flattering.” Ed sniffed. He was doing his best to sound disinterested, but Jim knew him well enough to know that if he truly didn’t care, he would have wriggled free of his grip and gone already.

“What did you expect? You framed me. Put me in jail. That’s always going to be in the back of my mind.” Ed turned his head away. Jim reached up and forced Ed to look at him. “Ed. Are you listening to me?”

With his hand on the other man’s jaw, Jim could feel it tense beneath his fingertips. 

“I’m listening.” Ed replied, barely mumbling out the words through gritted teeth. 

“For God’s sake…” Jim let him go and he paced, turning his back to Ed and running a hand over his face in exasperation. “What do you want me to say, Ed? That I’d trust you with my life? We both know that would end badly. I care about you, more than I should, but you’re dangerous.”

“Yet you still want to sleep with me. I wonder what that says about you?” Jim was surprised Ed stuck around to continue the conversation, but then he wasn’t. Ed always had to have the last word. 

Jim didn’t appreciate the accusation, because Ed was targeting something that had been keeping him up at night ever since the affair started. He didn’t know what his attraction for Ed said about him, but he had a feeling that it was nothing good. 

The first time they’d had sex, it had been angry. He’d tried everything to wipe that smug smile off of Ed’s face, short of hitting him, and when he had been about to do that next, he had found himself kissing him instead. 

“This isn’t about me.” He said, turning around to face him again. He didn’t believe his own words, and he could see that Ed didn’t believe them either.

“It’s about both of us.” Ed replied, sounding like a patronising therapist, and the mischievousness of his tone was too much for Jim to let slide. 

“I could strangle you.” Jim growled, and he regretted that as soon as he said it.

He swore underneath his breath.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure you did.” Ed said, expressionless.

“Ed-“

“Why don’t you?”

“Ed, I swear-“

“Go ahead, Jim. Wrap your hands around my throat. I won’t stop you.” His voice got just a little bit louder.

Jim took two wide steps forwards and that was enough to close the distance between them. He pushed Ed back against the wall, one hand on his throat. 

Ed’s eyes widened and a quiet gasp escaped his lips. The fear on his face made it clear, Jim wasn’t the only one who didn’t completely trust his new partner. 

“I didn’t expect you to actually do that.” Ed whispered, and Jim found himself smirking. 

He didn’t choke him, but he stroked his thumb over his Adam’s apple, and that was enough to make the other man shiver. Jim could tell that it was from more than just fear.

“You should know better than to test me, Nygma.” He murmured, husky and low, and he kissed him.

As they kissed, Jim kept ahold of Ed’s throat. When he finally let go, Ed let out a soft, needy whine, and Jim put it back. He squeezed slightly. Ed whimpered.

“You like that, huh?” Jim muttered, to which Ed nodded desperately. 

“More.” He swallowed. “I want more.”

His cheeks were coloured with excitement, and Jim couldn’t refuse him. He increased the pressure, just enough to make Ed gasp. 

“More, more. Please, Jim.” He urged.

Ed had never begged Jim for anything before. He was always demanding, but he never begged. Never said please. He needed to be taught some manners.

Jim put his other hand on Ed’s throat too. When his grip tightened, Ed moaned. His grip tightened again, too much, and Ed began to choke. Jim let go immediately.

Ed rubbed his neck, coughing, and Jim reached out to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- Are you alright?” Ed nodded, with another cough. “Shit. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“I wanted you to.” Ed insisted, and the hoarseness of his voice made Jim wince.

“Still. I should have known better.”

“Kiss me again?”

The softness of the request wasn’t what Jim had expected. He grimaced, still bothered by how he’d gone too far. One of them needed to keep a level head if what they had, whatever it was, was going to work. He’d thought that would be him. He was disappointed in himself.

“I’m not really in the mood now.”

“Jim.” This time Ed was the one who reached out for him, and Jim didn’t have the willpower to step away. So he kissed him, but he kept his hands far away from his throat.


	16. "They're all watching the movie." (Harvey x Oswald)

“They’re all watching the movie. They’re not even going to notice.”

That was what Harvey had said, but he had lied. Or, if Oswald was to give him the benefit of the doubt, he had been mistaken.

Of course someone noticed when the detective ran his hand up the inside of  Oswald’s thigh, and Oswald shivered, and let him slide it further up. Of course that someone would be Jim Gordon.

As soon as they were in the lobby, Jim began to ask questions.

“How long has this been going on?” Jim asked, looking at them both with disapproval, but particularly Oswald. 

It made sense. Obviously he would blame him for leading his partner astray. He was a criminal after all.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harvey said, and Oswald struggled not to cringe. For someone who had a habit of being less than scrupulous, he wasn’t the best liar. 

“You running your hand up his thigh. It was dark in the movie theatre, but not _that_ dark.” Jim replied, before turning his attention to Oswald. He must have caught him wincing, and decided he was the weaker link. “How long?”

Oswald felt his face flush. “I don’t appreciate being talked to this way, Jim. I came to this movie theatre to meet with you and Harvey because I am cooperating with a GCPD investigation.”

“Harvey?” Jim raised an eyebrow.

“I mean Detective Bullock.” Oswald muttered. His face grew hotter and he silently cursed his carelessness.

Jim groaned and ran a hand over his face. Then, after several seconds, he sighed and declared, “I suppose it’s none of my business. I just think you’re making a mistake, getting involved with someone like Cobblepot.”

That stung. A lot.

“Appreciate the concern, hombre, but I think I can handle him.” Harvey wrapped an arm around his waist. Oswald guessed that they weren’t bothering to keep it a secret anymore.

—

“We shouldn’t have told Jim.” Oswald said later that night. He was in his pyjamas, whereas Harvey was only in his boxers. He didn’t wear much to bed, even when it was cold. The man was a human radiator.

“To be fair, we didn’t _really_ tell him. He worked it out.” Harvey pointed out, getting into bed beside him. “Kid’s a good detective. We should have been more careful around him.”

“‘We’? I wasn’t the one running my hands all over you in the theatre while Jim was three feet away.” 

Harvey was unperturbed by Oswald’s snaps. It was one of the reasons they worked. 

“You seemed to like it though.” Harvey smiled roguishly, and Oswald huffed.

“That’s not the point. It was foolish. I told you before, I didn’t want Jim knowing…” His voice trailed off into a whine as Harvey began to run his hands over him again. But this time, he allowed himself to reach Oswald’s cock. 

“Should I be jealous?” He asked, but he wasn’t serious. He wasn’t the jealous type.

“No.” Oswald answered anyway, his breath catching in his throat.

“You sure?” Harvey moved closer to him, and the two men kissed briefly.

“Yes.” 

They kissed again, longer, deeper, and Oswald pressed himself close to Harvey, desperate for more. 

“You said you were tired,” Harvey reminded Oswald, although he did so while unbuttoning his pyjama shirt. 

“I’m not anymore.” 

“You’re a fickle one.” He pushed Oswald onto his back and sat in front of him. He pulled down the other man’s pyjama bottoms and threw them aside. 

Oswald shivered at the change in temperature, and the thrill. He felt like he would never really get used to being naked in front of another person. When he rolled over onto his stomach, Harvey chuckled, and he ran a hand down his back and over his ass. 

“Still too shy to face me?” He squeezed one of his ass cheeks. “Not that I mind the view.” He gave it a little slap.

Oswald nodded into a pillow, a soft, highly embarrassing noise coming from his lips. 

There was a gentle pop of a lid opening, and Harvey poured some lubricant over his fingers and rubbed them over Oswald’s hole. Oswald raised up onto his knees, and Harvey soon pressed them inside.

That elicited a whimper, but once Harvey had removed the digits and replaced them with his cock, _that_ earned a moan.

He held onto Oswald’s waist and began to thrust. He was gentle at first, but gradually built up speed. As he did, Oswald’s cries became more desperate, and he found himself moving back against him, trying to get every millimetre of the length inside. 

It made him feel debauched and wonderful all at once. When Harvey slapped him on the ass again, a little harder this time, and called him out on how _greedy_ he was being, that nearly sent him over the edge there and then.

“Fuck, Oswald. You, you really want it, huh?” 

Oswald moaned in response, but that wasn’t enough. Harvey smacked him once more, and prompted him to say what he meant. Oswald obeyed. 

“Y-Yes, yes! Yes, I want it!” The sheets were twisted in his fists and when Harvey began to thrust harder, but slower, each sharp jerk of his hips making Oswald cry out, Oswald nearly tore the pillow with his teeth. 

“Please- Please, keep going!”

“Oh, I will,” Harvey grunted, and he moved faster again, and a few seconds later, Oswald came. Harvey followed.

—

Afterwards, Oswald got out of bed to retrieve his pyjama bottoms. He had just finished putting them on, when Harvey piped up.

“Since you’re out of bed anyway, could you get me a beer?”

Oswald rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself, but he did it. Only because, fool that he was, he had fallen in love with him.

When he got back to the bedroom, Harvey had fallen asleep. Oswald had already opened the bottle. 

He decided that _he_ would drink it. 

He sat down on the bed beside his sleeping partner and took a swig. He grimaced. It wasn’t to his taste. 

Jim had seemed to think he would be a bad influence on Harvey, but Oswald sometimes wondered if it wasn’t the other way around.


	17. "Have you ever tried..." (Ed x Oswald)

It shouldn’t have surprised Oswald that Ed was the adventurous, _curious_ type.

He had little sexual experience (although he had more than Oswald), and he wanted to rectify that. He wanted to try everything.

Every time they went to bed, he would have something new to suggest.

“Have you ever tried being tied up?”

“Have you ever tried spanking?”

“Have you ever tried temperature play?”

“Have you ever tried nantaimori?’

Ed’s ideas seemed to become more and more obscure and outlandish. Oswald wondered where he was getting them from. He decided he didn’t want to know.

Nevertheless, Oswald nearly always indulged him. Sometimes he even enjoyed their experimentations.

However, it felt like they hardly ever just _slept_ together anymore. 

Oswald missed it.

They were kissing. They had started in Oswald’s study, then moved up to the bedroom. Oswald was on his back, Ed lying over him. As Oswald felt his breath grow heavier and his length harden inside of his pants, he began to think, to hope, that perhaps they would simply make love. No kinks, no strange paraphernalia… Just the two of them.

Then Ed ruined it.

“Have you ever tried rimming?”

Oswald barely held in a groan.

“You know that I haven’t.” He replied grumpily. He didn’t know why Ed bothered to ask every time. If he hadn’t tried it with him, he hadn’t tried it at all. Ed had been his first, and he _knew_ that.

Ed blinked, surprised at Oswald’s tone. He moved off of him, kneeling on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

Oswald felt the absence immediately. He regretted being snippy. He shifted so that he was sitting up, his back resting on the headboard. “I’m sorry, Ed.” There was an embarrassing whine to his voice. He knew how needy what he was about to say would sound. “It’s only… I had hoped that we might take a break from all of that.”

Ed was silent, but Oswald was certain that he had hurt him. He put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. 

“Is this because of last night?” Ed asked, eyebrows sloping sadly as he placed his hand on top of Oswald’s.

Oswald winced in remembrance. 

“That was a bit much, but no… It’s not that.” 

He should have known better than to let Ed choke him. Although the bruises had been quick to fade, his neck still felt tender from it. 

Ed sighed. Oswald wasn’t certain if it was out of relief or out of disappointment. “How long of a break?” He asked, after an agonising pause.

“Maybe a few weeks?” Oswald tried, and Ed’s mouth hung open slightly. 

“Oswald-“ He began, his hand on Oswald’s gripped tighter and Oswald was surprised by the sudden intensity that flashed across his face and invaded his voice. “Are you… Are you breaking up with me?”

Oswald had not expected that. 

“No!” He gasped, shocked by the suggestion. “Good lord, of course not!”

“But… A few weeks… Are you ill? Did I hurt you? Is there something you’re not telling me?” The questions were rattled off fast and desperate, and Oswald didn’t know what to make of them.

He raised his hands up, as if to shield himself from the barrage of urgent queries. “Ed, I simply… I only thought it would be nice to go back to how things were before all these little… ‘Experiments’.” 

As soon as he said that, Ed’s body slackened, and a moment later, he laughed.

Oswald’s brow furrowed, confused. 

“I thought you meant a break from sex altogether.” He clarified, kissing him as soon as he’d said that, and Oswald laughed too. 

“No, no. I couldn’t stand being that long without you.” He promised him, and Ed smiled, nuzzling into the side of his neck in approval. 

“Neither could I.”

“You’re not disappointed about…” He began, cut off with a moan as Ed stroked his cock through the black fabric of his dress pants. “Oh, Ed…”

Ed moved on top of him again, his nimble fingers moving upwards to deftly undo the buttons of Oswald’s shirt “The ‘experiments’? A little. But I suppose we should pace ourselves.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” Oswald agreed. He undid Ed’s buttons, a little less skilfully. His hands always shook when it came to undressing the other man.

“I still think we should try rimming though.” 

Oswald narrowed his eyes slightly. “Ed…”

Ed chuckled, “It’s oral sex, Oswald. That’s all.”

Oswald’s face coloured. He had thought it was something far more… ‘Adventurous’.

“Oh.”

“You’ll like it. I promise.” 

—

Once they were undressed, they began to kiss again. However, free of their clothes, they touched each other more boldly. Their hands explored each other greedily and their hips bucked forwards, making their cocks press and slide against each other. 

Oswald almost forgot about Ed’s suggestion, until he felt Ed’s grip tighten around his waist and he was urged to turn over onto his stomach. He obeyed, still not entirely sure what to expect.

Ed lifted him up by the hips, so that Oswald was on his knees. He felt very exposed, but not so much as when Ed had insisted they try eating sushi off each other the week before. However, when Ed placed his hands on his ass, spreading him and exposing his hole, that changed.

He gasped, pressing his face into his forearms. Ed shushed him. 

“Relax… This will feel good.” 

Oswald was sure he looked ridiculous from that angle. Ed… Ed looked wonderful bent over, but he hadn’t been blessed with the same good looks. 

“Ah!” Oswald cried out as he felt Ed’s tongue brush over his hole. It almost tickled, but then Ed did it again, harder, and he concluded that it no longer tickled. It just felt _good._

He wondered if Ed had practiced this somehow. Or if practice would make it even better. It was already wonderful.

He tried to restrain himself from rocking back into Ed’s face, but before long he couldn’t help himself. Ed didn’t seem to mind. He gripped onto his ass firmly, fingers digging into the skin in a way that was deliciously possessive. 

He wanted to tell Ed that it felt good, that he was wrong to have tried to refuse this, but words failed him. He supposed that his moans sufficed.

Ed stopped, and he whined. The wetness quickly grew cold, and it made him shiver. He missed the warmth. 

“I told you that you’d like it.” Ed muttered, and his voice was wonderfully deep. He ran his hand over Oswald’s back, pausing at the nape of his neck, then his palm curled around it and he pressed down firm. 

Oswald mewed appreciatively, “I do. I do.”

He was wiggling in Ed’s grasp, ass moving in the air, but he wasn’t trying to get away. It was impatience. He was capable of being very patient, but he didn’t like to be. Luckily for him, Ed didn’t like to be either

Ed lined up behind him, and with a slow push forward of his hips, and a groan from his lips, he entered him. 

Oswald gasped, eyes screwing shut. “Oh…” He said simply, the small word repeated over and over once Ed began to thrust.

Then, he started to say Ed’s name. He alternated between ‘Ed’ and ‘Edward’, and occasionally, a ‘please’ worked its way in. Ed moved his hand from the back of Oswald’s neck and instead pressed down onto the other man’s back with his body. Oswald let his legs lie flat against the mattress and Ed kissed at him. 

The thrusts became slower then, but deeper, harder, and Oswald was whimpering out nonsense and terms of endearment. Ed bit the edge of his earlobe gently and whispered that he loved him. 

Moments later, they came. Together. And as soon as Ed rolled off of Oswald’s back and by his side, Oswald shifted over so he remained close to him. 

Sweat made their bodies sticky, and Oswald felt the need for a long bath. But not yet. For the moment, he only wanted to be beside Ed.


	18. "You better be quiet or they'll hear you." (Alfred x Ed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first piece featuring Alfred.

Alfred was embarrassed. He thought he must be getting old. It was a bad sign if he let this joker get the jump on him.

He remembered him. Nygma. Or ‘The Riddler’, as the papers were calling him now.

He grunted softly as he tried to pull free of his bonds, but he had no luck. 

“Oi. Mate. Explain to me again why you tied me up like this.” 

It was a bit suspect. He was spread eagle on the bed, a limb bound to each bedpost with a necktie. He hadn’t found himself in this position for quite a while. In fact, the last time he had, he had been in London… Although the tying up had been far more consensual.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, windows!” He called, when the tall man, clad in green, completely ignored him.

“Hush.” The younger man put a finger up to his lips and Alfred couldn’t help but smirk slightly at how pompous the guy was.  “You had better be quiet or they’ll hear you.”

“Maybe I want that. Master Bruce is just a young ‘un, but he’d mop the floor with you.” 

His captor snorted in amusement and raised an eyebrow. He showed Alfred the pistol that he had armed himself with. “Are you sure about that?”

Alfred’s jaw tightened. “You’d best put that away.”

“Sure.”

“No one threatens Master Bruce on my watch.”

“I just did.”

“You’ll regret it.”

“We’ll see.” Ed smiled, and if Alfred hadn’t been tied up he would have liked to wipe the cocky smile off of his pretty face, but that would have to wait for another time…

—

Bruce had come to his rescue. Alfred had nearly had a heart attack when he burst through the door, but the boy did well. He disarmed Ed and tied his wrists behind him with a zip tie. 

“No!” The infamous ‘Riddler’ protested as he was taken down by a teenage boy, squirming on his belly and trying to get up, but Bruce held firm. 

“Are you alright, Alfred?” Bruce asked, ignoring him.

“Absolutely peachy, Master B. Be a good lad, unite me and go call Gordon, would you?” 

“Shouldn’t I watch him?”

“I’ll do that.”

He had a few choice ‘words’ he wanted to say to him.

—

Alfred hoisted Ed up onto his feet by the back of his jacket. Ed grunted in discomfort and tried to move away.

“What are you doing?” He demanded moodily, but the butler decided not to dignify that with an answer.

“You’re a clever lad, you’ll work it out soon enough.”

Ed scowled, appearing more like a sulky teenager than a fearful criminal menace. He was no doubt upset his plan had gone awry.

He sat on the bed and when he did, he pulled the young man over his lap. Ed gasped. 

“No!” He exclaimed. 

Alfred couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed he _was_ clever. Or at least, he was quick.

“Afraid so. You’ve earned this.” He declared, wasting no time and giving him a hard swat on the seat of his pants. Ed yelped, very loudly, and Alfred couldn’t resist parroting back his earlier words. “You had better be quiet or they’ll hear you.”

Ed, unlike Alfred, had absolutely no wish to be found in such a compromising position. So he ground his teeth together and hissed, “You’ll regret this! Let me up!”

Alfred continued to swat him, unafraid by his threats. They were hard to take seriously when he was lying over his lap, getting smacked like some young upstart. 

“Ow! O-Ow!” Ed kicked and squirmed, trying to push himself off of Alfred’s lap, but the older man kept a strong arm wrapped around his waist. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“If you can’t be quiet, maybe I ought to gag you for your own good.” He suggested, his hand continuing to land sharp, stinging swats on the criminal’s upturned (and rather shapely) ass. Ed continued to whine, and Alfred would have been lying if he had claimed it wasn’t an appealing sound. 

He’d have liked to take his pants down, he’d have liked to have seen his skin flush pink from the spanking, and to keep going until Ed was begging, crying… Promising to be _good._

But he heard Bruce coming back up the stairs, so he stopped. 

He pushed Ed off of his lap and the lanky would-be kidnapper hit the ground with a yelp. Alfred caught a glimpse of his face, and it was flushed pink, his eyes wet with tears. 

He had a feeling that Ed wouldn’t be pursuing an assault charge for this.

“Is everything alright, Alfred? I heard noises.” Bruce asked, looking between the two men. 

Ed sniffed miserably on the ground and turned his face away from the youth. 

“Everything’s absolutely fine, Bruce.” Alfred answered for them both, a secretive grin on his face.


	19. “Are you sure you know how to use that?” (Lucius x Ed)

“Are you sure you know how to use that?”

Lucius tried not to be insulted. 

“It seems simple enough. It only has two buttons.” He showed the remote control to Ed, although he had seen it before. It was a small, palm sized thing. One button was marked with a power symbol, the other with an lightning bolt.

The plug that it controlled was a little bigger.

Ed took the remote from Lucius’ hand, without asking, and pressed the power button. Then, the other one. It buzzed in Lucius’ hand and made him jump a little.

“How strong is it?” Ed asked him. 

Lucius offered it to Ed, “You can see for yourself, if you like.”

Ed took it and blinked as it vibrated in his palm. Lucius took the remote from him, and pressed the second button again. It began to send out steady pulses of vibration that would gradually speed up, then gradually slow down. 

“I imagine it feels a bit more exciting when it’s inside of you.” Lucius pointed out, to which Ed nodded, swallowing deeply as he did so. “We can start on a light setting.” 

“I can take more than this.” Ed said, referring to the current mode that the thing was on. His bravado was endearing, but Lucius was far too responsible to take advantage of it.

“I have no doubt, but we’ll start on a lighter setting all the same.” He kissed Ed on the cheek. Then he turned the plug off, to save the batteries.

—

Ed gasped quietly as the tip of the plug was pressed against his hole. It was still now, but the anticipation of what it was capable of was no doubt what was making him shiver. 

“It’s okay,” Lucius soothed, pushing the toy forwards until it fit snugly inside of the other man’s ass. Only the looped handle was left outside, and Lucius kept a finger hooked inside of that. He had no desire to spend the evening in A&E, waiting for it to be removed.  “How does that feel?”

“Bigger than expected.” Ed admitted, his breath catching as Lucius pulled it out slightly. “No, no. It can stay.” 

Lucius chuckled fondly. He patted him on the ass and bit his bottom lip as the other man moaned. He couldn’t wait to see what Ed would be like once he actually turned the thing on. 

“Should I start it?” He asked, hopeful that the answer would be yes.

Ed nodded. 

Lucius was true to his word and he started it on the lightest setting the plug had. He couldn’t hear the noise now that it was inside of Ed, but from his reaction, it was working just fine.

“Oh-“ His body tensed for a moment, but he relaxed as Lucius stroked his back. “Oh, that feels…”

“Good?” Lucius suggested.  
  
“Interesting.” Ed corrected. “Can you try it a little higher?”

“Give it a moment first.” Lucius said, patting him on the ass again, and Ed whined impatiently. 

With his finger hooked in its handle, Lucius moved the plug in and out of Ed’s ass, and despite the modest power setting, Ed was soon sighing and moaning in approval. Once Lucius was satisfied that enough time had passed, he pressed the button a second time, and Ed moaned loudly, and immediately. 

“Too much?” Lucius asked, ready to turn it off, but Ed shook his head vigorously. 

“I- Ahh… Forgot… I forgot that it pulsed like that.” He explained. 

Lucius had to admit that he was relieved that Ed didn’t want to stop. He looked gorgeous like this. Tense, writhing, with his ass and hips pushing back against the plug greedily. He’d had a feeling that Ed would like their new toy, but it had only been a hunch. It was satisfying to see that he had been right.

He gave Ed another slap on the ass, slightly harder this time, and Ed gasped, head arching back in pleasure. 

Rubbing a hand over the faint pink mark he’d left, Lucius leaned down and kissed him on his back. “You seem to like that.” He commented, to which Ed nodded wordlessly.

He smacked him again, a little harder again, and Ed whimpered out a muffled word that sounded like ‘more’. 

The next setting was a constant, steady buzz, but more intense than the first. Ed reached down and started stroking his cock, and Lucius helped him along with a series of sharp, quick smacks to his ass that soon made the skin rosy and warm to the touch. A short while into the third mode, and Ed let out a sharp cry, his body going rigid for a few moments, before slackening and slumping against the mattress. 

Lucius took the plug out, switched it off, and set it aside. He ran a hand over Ed’s tender backside, pinching the skin gently between his fingers. His other hand stroked over his cock, which was still hard and weeping precum. 

He’d thought that he might pull the plug out before Ed came and fuck him, but he’d gotten too caught up in watching Ed writhe. He’d thought he might last longer. 

If he was a different man, he would have grabbed Ed by the hips and force him back onto his knees, he’d fuck him anyway. But he wasn’t that selfish. 

Ed looked over his shoulder at him, a mischievous glint in his eye that made Lucius think he ought to spank him some more.

“Jealous?” Ed asked, and Lucius could have rolled his eyes at how pleased with himself he sounded.

“Turn over.” He ordered, deciding that if Ed had the energy to tease, he probably had the energy (and inclination) to help him finish.

Ed rolled onto his back, shifting slightly in order to get comfortable. He looked up at Lucius curiously, but he soon understood when Lucius moved over him, straddling him at the waist. 

He wrapped a hand around Lucius’ cock and began to stroke. 

“Ah…” Lucius let his head roll back. He was close already, but he made the most of it. He rocked his hips backwards and forwards, spurring Ed on to touch him more.

When he came, he did with a soft grunt and a sigh of contentment. He wasn’t so loud as Ed was, but Ed didn’t seem to mind that. He knew he’d done well.

“How many more settings does that thing have?” Ed asked, before Lucius had even fully lain down beside him. 

“Seven more.” Lucius rested his head on his shoulder, happy to just enjoy the afterglow, even if Ed was already thinking about n _ext time._


	20. “Are you sure that’s going to fit?” (Strange x Nicewald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of warnings, this might be a bit sensitive to people who have struggled/are struggling with eating disorders, and the consent is dubious.

“Are you sure that’s going to fit?” 

He was so innocent. One could hardly believe that he had once been the so-called ‘King of Gotham’. 

“I don’t know, Oswald. But there is one way to find out.”

Oswald blushed and lowered his eyes. Strange saw his hesitation, and chuckled affably. 

“I can turn around if you like.” He offered, although he had no intention of doing so. 

Oswald smiled, nervously at first, but he seemed to become more at ease after a couple of moments and he nodded in agreement. “I’ll try them on.”

He folded up the sweater neatly and set it aside for when he was ready to put it on. He ran his hand over the soft wool as he did so, his fingertips tremblings slightly. Then he began to unbutton his uniform, Strange didn’t pretend not to stare. If Oswald asked about it, which he doubted he would thanks to his newly inoffensive disposition, he would simply say that he was his doctor and it was silly for Oswald to be embarrassed in front of him.

The clothes were a gift for him. They were simple, but they weren’t his uniform, and that made Oswald’s eyes immediately light up when he had first unpackaged them. There was a sweater, a hat, underwear, two pairs of socks, pants, and a long black coat that was warm, but not waterproof. He had thanked Strange over and over again, and Strange graciously accepted his gratitude, saying that it was nothing. Simply a reward for all the progress he had made so far.

“You’ve lost weight again.” Strange commented, running his eyes over Oswald’s pale, increasingly fragile looking form. Oswald went to fold his arms over himself, to attempt to cover his torso, but then he caught himself and desisted, holding them by his sides instead.

“I’m sorry.” He said, not able to look Strange in the face. “I do try to eat, but I’m afraid I have no appetite.”

“That won’t do.” He stepped in close to Oswald, and he placed a hand on his shoulder. Oswald shivered slightly, but he didn’t draw away. “You must try harder. The therapy will be more difficult on you if you become malnourished.”

Oswald’s mouth formed a tight, thin-lipped, and frightened smile. But he nodded.

“Yes, Professor Strange.”

“Hugo.” He corrected.

“Hugo. Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright.”

He took a moment, his hand lingering on Oswald’s shoulder, and then he stepped back to allow Oswald to continue undressing.

When he got to his underwear, his jumpsuit was pooled around his ankles so he simply stepped out of it. Then, he made to start putting on his new clothes, but Strange stopped him with a hand on his shoulder again.

“Oswald, what are those bruises on your back?” He asked, and Oswald, naive as he now was, believed that the psychiatrist hadn’t been aware of them before.

He went pink with shame. “They’re nothing. I’ve had worse.”

“This won’t do. Tell me what happened.”

It took prompting, but with his hand gradually moving from his shoulder to his arm, stroking gently, Oswald began to open up. Of course, Strange knew it all anyway, but he was convincing when pretending that he hadn’t.

Some of the guards had gotten a bit ‘carried away’ when Oswald had panicked and refused to go to therapy, and he’d been beaten for it. By the time Oswald finished recounting the story, he was crying. It was easy for Strange to draw him into a hug, Oswald accepted it, even craved it. He seemed to melt into his arms. 

He ran his hands over his back, the skin cool and soft underneath his fingertips. Oswald whimpered when he touched his bruises, but obedient as he was, he didn’t move away. 

Strange felt something hard against his leg, and when he shifted against it, Oswald gasped. 

“I’m so sorry-“

“It’s okay, Oswald.” He soothed. “It’s been so long since you’ve had any physical contact that wasn’t painful in some way, it’s only natural.”

Oswald pressed his face against his shoulder with a sniffle. Strange could feel the tears soak through his shirt. “You’re so kind to me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Now, now. You’ve worked very hard, and I’m your doctor. Of course you deserve it.”

“I’ve been a terrible person. I’ve been cruel and mean and selfish and-“

Strange shushed him, and Oswald obeyed with another sniffle.

“That can all be behind you, Oswald. Just focus on getting better.” He shifted again, deliberately rubbing his hip against Oswald’s crotch, and the other man whimpered most pitifully. He did it again, and Oswald began to tremble with need. 

“Oh- Oh gosh…” Oswald whispered, breath heavy. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…” 

He moved too, rubbing against Strange, and within moments, he let out a shuddering moan and he had stained the front of his Arkham-issue underwear. 

“I’m sorry…”

“No need to apologise, Oswald.” Strange assured him.

He put some distance between them again and Oswald seemed all the more embarrassed for it. He placed his hands on his face and was trembling quite noticeably.

Strange made note of that. It was interesting, and suggested that he had some repressed trauma or emotions regarding his sexuality. He would have to ask him about it in a future session.

“I think you should try on your new underwear first.” He suggested, turning from Oswald and towards his desk to write down what he had observed from him. After several seconds of shaky breathing, he heard the soft sound of Oswald’s underwear falling to the floor.


	21. Gentle (Zsasz x Oswald)

Oswald wanted Victor, he really did.

But he was afraid it would hurt.

That was ridiculous. He knew it was. Why should it matter? 

He had been through so much pain before that surely he could stand a little more.

Only, for some reason he couldn't. 

Not with Victor. 

Despite his line of work, and his reputation, Victor had never hurt him. He didn't want that to change.

“Are you alright?” Victor cupped the side of his face in his palm, and Oswald found himself leaning into it automatically. He nodded slightly. “Because we don't have to, not if you don't want this.”

“I do!” He insisted, perhaps a bit too vehemently, because Victor's eyes grew wide for a moment, and he chuckled at him. It was fond, but embarrassing all the same.

“Okay then.” He obliged.

Victor kissed him, softly, slowly, and Oswald found himself moving backwards towards his bed. Victor moved forwards as he moved back, he didn't seem to want to stop kissing him, and that was just fine with Oswald. Kissing was nice. Kissing didn't hurt.

Of course, it could still be nerve-wracking. Especially at the start. But it was warm and wet and welcome. Sometimes Oswald felt like he could kiss Victor all day.

But he was sure that would be a bother to him.

When they reached the bed, Oswald nearly fell onto it. Fortunately,as far as his dignity was concerned, he managed a semi-controlled descent, landing on his backside with a soft thud. Victor was quick to move on top of him. With a gentle push, he encouraged Oswald to lie down, and then he went right back to covering him in kisses. 

He moved away from Oswald's lips, and instead moved to his jaw. He folded away the stiff white cotton of Oswald's collar, exposing more skin, then proceeded to kiss it too. Oswald gasped suddenly, his back arching up in a way that surprised even him. Victor seemed less shocked than he was, he merely purred fondly in Oswald's ear.

“Can I take your tie off?” 

Oswald heard himself say yes. He sounded utterly debauched. Breathy and desperate. What Victor must think of him…

“And your buttons?” Victor asked, once he had removed his tie with impressive smoothness. 

Oswald nodded.

Truthfully, as well as any potential pain that might come with sex, he had been afraid of Victor seeing him naked. He wasn't very impressive. At least his suits gave the impression (he hoped) that he might be. They disguised just how small and breakable his body was.   
As Victor undid his shirt, he was still apprehensive of this, but if the assassin was bothered by his frailty, he had the good manners to hide it.

Victor took his time at first, but he seemed to get impatient towards the last few buttons. He hurried up, then sunk down to kiss at the smooth, soft skin he had exposed. The only hair that was visible started just below his navel, making up a sparse treasure trail that grew slightly thicker as it reached the base of Oswald's cock. Not that Victor could see that far down yet.

Oswald had never been kissed anywhere like this before. Each time Victor's mouth made contact with his skin, his body would tense, shiver, then writhe restlessly underneath his lips. He wanted more. 

His cock ached, stiff, and urgently calling for attention. He wondered if Victor was hard too. 

“Victor… Please…” He begged. 

He didn't know how to finish that sentence. 

'Please keep going’?

'Please just fuck me’?

He didn't dare say either of those. 

Thankfully, Victor seemed to understand. He hooked his fingers into the waistline of Oswald's pants, and Oswald gasped in appreciation. 

“Yes. Please. Take them off.” He all but panted, and Victor looked up at him with a smile that was positively roguish. Oswald bit his bottom lip and let his head fall back against the pillow. He supposed this was what he got for falling in love with a sadist.

“Victor,” He whined, almost petulantly.

His fear of being undressed was clouded over then forgotten entirely thanks to his lust.

He heard Victor shuffle a little further downwards, and then there pressure, and warmth, on top of his cock. He squeaked.

Victor was kissing him there now. Over the fabric. Keeping it cruelly trapped inside of its underwear prison. He moaned loudly. Despite the layers separating Victor's mouth from his member, the pressure felt good. The assassin moved his tongue out from behind his lips, and licked at him, the saliva it left behind gradually soaked through. 

Oswald keened urgently, lost to the sensations, the feeling of it. He forgot his earlier worries if it hurting. Because this most certainly did not. 

His eyes were closed, and although he could barely make it out above the sounds of his own cries, he heard Victor touching himself. 

He hadn't quite imagined his first time in bed with Victor being this way. He had pictured his pants being off at least. But he didn't feel unsatisfied. Far from it. 

He came with a moan, and a shudder, and Victor groaned softly in response. Oswald let himself believe it was in appreciation. Perhaps it was appreciation of his own skills rather than Oswald's ridiculous squirming about, but he wouldn't begrudge him that.

Victor rested a hand on his leg, Oswald opened his eyes and looked down at him once he felt somewhat back on earth and not still amongst the stars. The other man's hand was rubbing the inside of his thigh with a tenderness that not even Oswald could misinterpret as mere politeness. 

“You’re just the cutest thing sometimes.” Victor said, and before Oswald could open his mouth to deny it, he was on top of him again, pulling him in for another kiss.


	22. Vanilla (Jim x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set sometime after s3, with a rugged, stubbly Jim Gordon visiting the Iceberg Lounge.

Oswald had heard Barbara call him it. She said it like it was a bad thing.

'Captain Vanilla’.

Oswald thought it was sweet, and ‘sweet’ and Jim Gordon so rarely went together in recent times.

He had gotten tougher, sterner, more willing to compromise his moral code to get results. Oswald wasn't surprised, but he would be lying if he pretended he wasn't a little disappointed. He knew that was unfair. It was Gotham after all. It changed people.

“This is wrong.” Jim muttered, mostly to himself, but loudly enough for Oswald to hear.

He tried not to be hurt by it.

“That hasn't stopped you recently, has it?”

If Jim was going to be cruel, he would be too. Or that was the intention, but Jim looked so wounded by his observation that it actually made Oswald feel bad.

“Sorry.”

“No, you're right.”

Oswald didn't have much time to dwell over Jim’s surprise confession, before he knew it, he was being kissed.

Jim hadn't shaved for a couple of days, and his stubble was uncomfortable against Oswald's face. His breath tasted like cheap whiskey. No cigarettes though. It figured that Jim wasn't a smoker.

It could have easily been unpleasant, but it wasn't. Oswald hungrily leaned in for more whenever Jim parted from him to take a breath.

He clung onto the front of Jim's shirt, the fabric cheap and coarse compared to his own clothing, but he didn't mind.

Shortly after they first met, Oswald had frequently found himself daydreaming about dressing Jim up nice, spoiling him, showing him off as his… He knew now that would never happen, but he would take what he could get.

He was appalled at himself for still wanting him, even after everything the detective had done to him. He should have had the strength to turn Jim away once he had started to get handsy with him.

“Jim…” He nuzzled into the side of the other man's neck, far more affectionately than was sensible, and breathed his musk in deep. Rough hands grabbed him by the hips and lifted him onto his desk. He gasped, pressing his face to Jim’s shoulder, he muttered his name out again, even more desperately.

Jim tugged at his pants, moving them down and off Oswald's ankles, his underwear was next. Oswald didn't have time to protest, even if he'd wanted to. The flat surface of the desk was cold against his ass, but he wasn't sitting on it for long. Jim took hold of his legs and pulled him forwards. He fell backwards, lying down on it now, and his ass hanging off the edge. Jim didn't undress himself, he only lowered his pants enough to let his cock out. That was all he needed to fuck him.

With a savage grunt, Jim pushed into him. It hurt. The pressure got more and more until it suddenly burst into pain. He cried out, and Jim clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Quiet.” He ordered, and Oswald remembered where they were. He couldn't very well be crying out unrestrained here. Not with his guards just outside the door.

He nodded to let Jim know he’d try to control himself, and Jim removed his hand from his mouth, resting it instead on the base of his throat. Oswald whimpered and bit his lip. Another buck of Jim’s hips, and he gasped sharply, a dry sob following.

“I said-” Jim began to growl, but Oswald interrupted him with a desperate plead.

“It hurts.”

He was humiliated to have to ask Jim to stop, but he couldn't bear it. It was too much.

He didn't really expect Jim told listen to him, but he did. He even looked guilty.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.” He said, his eyes not meeting Oswald's. Instead they were cast downwards as Jim rearranged his pants.

“Where are you going?” He asked, cringing at how he sounded. Needy, pathetic. He wasn't even hard anymore but he didn't want Jim to go.

He didn't want his only time with Jim, with anyone, to be a few painful thrusts and him crying out for the other man to stop.

He didn't expect rose petals and candles and soft music, but he wanted more than this from it.

Jim cursed underneath his breath. He finally found the courage to meet Oswald's in the eye, and the hard, world weary look in them faded, just a little. For a moment, despite the stubble and the cheap leather jacket, Jim appeared more as Oswald remembered him, before things got all twisted between them.

“We’ll need something to make this easier on you. I’m guessing you don't have anything like that in your desk drawer.”

Oswald nodded.

“Really?” Jim seemed surprised.

“When I opened this place, I was given free samples of various… Um…” He blushed, which was ridiculous, considering that he was naked from the waist down and sprawled over his desk. “You know.”

“I see.”

“They wanted me to put them in the bathrooms.”

“Which drawer?” Jim moved around to the other side of it. Oswald twisted his neck around to look at him.

Oswald hesitated for a moment, because Jim was a police officer and he wasn't sure if letting him rifle through his desk was a good idea.

“Top right.” He replied, deciding Jim wouldn't be surprised by whatever else he happened to catch a glimpse of anyway.

Jim found a sample packet of lubricant. It was gaudy and shocking red. It wasn't suitable in the slightest for use in the Iceberg Lounge. It wasn't the right colour at all.

“Maybe you should turn over.”

Oswald hesitated. Jim noticed.

He stood in front of Oswald again, and leaned down to kiss him. It was gentler, but the taste was the same.

Oswald anchored Jim down as they locked lips, and kept him close until Jim forced him to let go. Oswald whined slightly, but he didn't protest much more than that when Jim flipped him over onto his stomach.

Jim’s hands, calloused and strong, ran over the skin of his ass, squeezing it, kneading it. Oswald pressed his face into his arms, mortified, but titillated. “Jim, please.”

Jim opened the lubricant and smeared a little over his fingers. When they pushed against Oswald's hole, they were wet, and cold.

“Oh…” He braced himself for pain, but this time, it wasn't nearly so sharp. As Jim moved his fingers back and forth into him, he found himself moaning, and Jim must have forgotten about the guards because he didn't cover his mouth.

Perhaps a minute had gone by, or perhaps a bit more, and after a short while Jim removed his fingers and pressed his cock up against his ass instead.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

Oswald barely dared to believe that could be true.

“Damn. Forget I said that.”

Apparently Jim couldn't believe it either.

The sex was still rough, but it didn't hurt nearly so bad. Oswald came embarrassingly quickly. Jim leaned down and asked him if he wanted him to stop. He didn't.

Jim's hips slapping against his ass, Oswald moaning into the desk, it was impossible that no one heard. But if someone did, they didn't dare interrupt them.


	23. The First Time (Ed x Oswald)

The light was dim. The music only slightly audible through the walls. On the other side, there was a party. There was laughter and merriment. Where Oswald and Ed were, there was only the two of them, a bottle of wine, and quiet.

“Why did you bring me back, Oswald?” Ed asked, barely above a whisper. He didn't need to speak loud for Oswald to hear him. They were very close. Practically touching.

The question had tortured him for too long. He couldn't stand to live in ignorance of its answer for a moment more.

“A final moment of weakness.” Oswald replied, a softness in his voice that Ed felt like he hadn't heard in years.

“And this?” Ed gestured to the room they stood in together. 

It was an office, but it was cosy, and was made cosier by the candlelight and the closeness of their bodies to one and other. 

“Extending the moment.” 

Ed had avoided Oswald after he had been freed from his icy prison, but months passed and he could no longer stay away. When he had heard the Lounge was celebrating its first anniversary, he found himself attending. He didn't know why. 

It was foolish, illogical. Strangely irresistible.

Ever since his metamorphosis into the Riddler, and even before, Ed could seldom stay away from trouble. Oswald catching sight of him in the crowd and ushering him to his office could definitely have been trouble.

“Are you drunk?” Ed asked, pouring another glass of wine for himself. He had to step away from Oswald to do it. Oswald didn't like that.

“The party was overwhelming. I needed space to think.” He confessed, not answering the question.

“About us?”

“About you.”

Ed brought the glass up to his lips. His favourite topic of conversation. Although not with Oswald.

“I miss you.” 

After that, no more words were said for a while. The next one uttered was a breathy 'Oswald’, gasped out by Ed as he clung onto the smaller man. Oswald was definitely drunk, because he wouldn't be so bold as to guide Ed to a chaise longue, or indeed any flat surface, otherwise.

However, when it came to undressing, Oswald hesitated. Ed saw his fingers hover nervously over his shirt buttons, and decided to give him a hand. He reached up and pulled Oswald's shirt open, several white buttons popping off as he did so. Oswald looked down at him, face comically shocked and appalled, and Ed very nearly tittered like a mischievous schoolboy. 

“Was that really necessary?” He complained, to which Ed smiled unapologetically.

“You were taking too long.” 

“I forgot how irritating you can be.”

“Allow me to remind you.”

He anchored him down for a kiss and half expected Oswald to rip open his shirt too. He didn't. Instead, he carefully undid the buttons and then ran his hands over the exposed skin, slowly, appreciatively. Like he couldn't quite believe he was being permitted to do it.

Ed found that he liked that.

Being frozen had been a blow to his ego that badly needed soothed. 

“Ed… You really are…” Oswald paused, lost for words. “You look wonderful.”

They kissed again. Their hands wandered over each other, rubbing and stroking over exposed flesh, then travelling downwards, until each man found a similar hardness in the other’s pants. 

Both gasped when they touched each other. Hesitant at first, although Ed was a little bolder, they unzipped their flies and reached inside to free their members. 

“Ah…” Ed ran his spare hand over Oswald’s back and used it to push him a little closer to him. “Oh gosh…”

Oswald hid his face in the crook of Ed’s neck. He whimpered, and Ed could feel his face burning up against his skin.

Breath growing heavy, they continued to touch each other until they both came, messing their hands and leaving them lying on the chaise longue together in a sweaty heap. Oswald lay on top of him, his cheek sticking to Ed’s chest and his eyes closed over gently. Ed ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down, without particularly thinking about it.

“What now?” Ed asked, when he refound the ability to speak.

Oswald groaned in annoyance. He clearly did not feel much like conversation. He was almost cute like that. Although Ed knew it wouldn't last for much longer.

“Another bottle of wine?” He suggested, and Ed found that he didn't think that was a bad idea.


	24. Punishment/Discipline (Zsasz x Oswald)

Oswald had never seen Victor like this before.

He was usually the more emotional of the two. He was usually the one who would have a bad mood take hold of him, refusing to let go, making everything around him seem dark and unfriendly, and making everything more difficult for those who had to be around him.

Victor had suffered the brunt of such moods before, and he handled them well. He knew not to take what Oswald said during them to heart. 

When their roles were reversed, and it was Victor who was feeling gloomy, Oswald found it trickier to deal with than he would have suspected. Truthfully, he would have never guessed that the shoe would be on the other foot.

“Victor.” He declared, after the assassin had been not himself for an agonisingly long time (two days), “This needs to stop. You must get ahold of yourself.”

He pulled open the curtains and sunlight flooded into their bedroom. Victor didn't react at all. He just lay there. On his back. Staring at the ceiling. Saying nothing.

He had only gotten up to go to the bathroom and eat two handfuls of dry cereal straight from the box.

It was deeply concerning.

“You haven't even told me what’s wrong.” 

Nothing.

Oswald rolled his eyes and after a few seconds of silent frustration, he went over to Victor and prodded him on the shoulder with the bottom of his cane.

“Victor, are you listening to me?”

He was less irritated than he acted. Truthfully, his most prominent emotion was worry. 

Victor's sudden depression reminded him of how Ed had behaved when he had found out about Isabella's death. That whole incident was something he badly wanted to forget.

Victor still said nothing, and Oswald felt the worry bubble up inside of him, becoming a sudden surge of panic. Part of him wanted to hit Victor, to snap him out of this. Part of him wanted to fall onto the bed beside him and press his face into his chest and plead with him, beg at him, to say something. Anything.

“Please talk to me.” He said, softly, yet desperately.

He didn't even feel embarrassed for how vulnerable he must have sounded, because he was almost certain that whatever part of his mind that Victor had retreated into, he wasn't able to hear him there.

“I failed.” 

Two simple words. But Oswald had never been so thankful to hear anything in his life.

He clutched Victor's hand as soon as they were spoken, as if to anchor him into saying more.

“What do you mean?” He pressed, squeezing tight. He was so relieved to hear him that he didn't have any focus left to deduce the meaning behind the other man's words.

“My last job. I failed.”

Oswald had to think back to recall what Victor was talking about. It had not been all that recent, and it had been an eventful month for him. Victor had last done a job for him nearly a month ago, and as far as Oswald was aware, he hadn't worked outside of that since. 

Oswald had asked him to take out a rival of his, but he had more security on him that evening than they had previously been aware of. Victor had been underarmed. He had managed to kill him, but not without taking some minor damage to himself. 

“You didn't fail. He's dead.”

“No. I did. My shots missed. He died because he got frightened and ran into traffic.” 

Oswald didn't care about that, so long as he was dead. 

“Does that matter?” He asked, scoffing softly. He didn't mean to be insensitive, but he couldn't help but feel Victor was overreacting if that had been what had driven him to this state. “The end result is the same.”

Victor’s gaze seemed to grow harder, as if he was willing the ceiling to fall down and crush them both. His jaw tight, he muttered out a stiff, “It matters.”

\--

Oswald was sitting alone in his study when Victor came downstairs. He wasn't expecting him.

He had thought he would be in bed for the rest of the day.

Stony and miserable.

Oswald had left him because Victor had asked him too. He hadn't been happy about it, but he felt that if he stayed, Victor would only become angry and even more disinclined to open up to him.

“Victor!” Oswald gasped. He stood up and went over to him as quickly as he could, and Victor stayed put. He let him embrace him. 

“It is so good to see you up and about.” He said, face pressed to his chest, “Are you feeling better?”

Victor rested a hand on the back of Oswald’s head, and the smaller man let out a soft, happy sigh at the contact. 

“I will be soon.”

The response was cryptic, and Oswald was confused by it.

“What do you mean?” He asked, parting from him just enough to look up at him.

Unexpectedly, there was a hint of a smile on Victor's face.

“Would you punish me?”

\--

Oswald didn't agree at first, because how could he?

He loved Victor, and in his mind he had done nothing wrong. Certainly nothing to make him want to punish him.

But Victor insisted it would make him feel better, so, reluctantly, Oswald had agreed.

The method was up to Victor's choosing. Obviously. 

Oswald’s grip tightened around the handle of the cane as he watched Victor get into position. Bent over the desk in Oswald's study. Naked.

Oswald admired the view but he would rather be rid of the cane and have his hands free so he could caress Victor instead. But that wasn't what Victor wanted. 

Not yet anyway.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, hoping that Victor would say no, but of course he didn't. He merely nodded.

Oswald swallowed hard. He breathed in sharply through his nose,straightened his back, and moved behind the other man so he would be able to administer the strokes.

His knuckles were white. He tapped the cane anxiously and lightly against the side of his leg. It was much thinner than the one he used for walking, but despite never using it, he could guess that it would hurt quite a bit when swung.

“I’ll stop as soon as you tell me to.” He promised, and Victor nodded again.

“I know you will. Thank you.”

The assassin's body was tight and rigid, and Oswald longed so, so badly to touch it. It has only been two days, but Victor had felt so far from him that it seemed more like two years.

He had been hesitant to agree to the punishment, but if it made Victor return to his old self, and if it made him feel better, it would be worth it.

Oswald took a deep breath, and struck him. Victor tensed, and a thin pink line appeared across the skin of his ass. 

“I-” Oswald opened his mouth and began to apologise, but Victor stopped him.

“Harder.” He ordered, and Oswald felt compelled to oblige him.

The second stroke landed about a centimetre above the first, so Oswald could see the difference in colour. It was considerably darker in hue. A hot shade of red that faded slightly, but remained looking sorer than the first. 

Victor let out a soft huff, then he sighed. Oswald worried that it had been too much, that Victor would regret trusting him to do this, but the assassin urged him to do it again. Harder still.

The third landed with the sharpest sound, enough to make Oswald wince in sympathy, and Victor even let out a quiet gasp in response to it.

The sound seemed to go straight to Oswald's cock, a reaction he was far from proud of. This time, be delivered the next blow without waiting for permission. Victor gasped again, a little louder.

“More.” Victor demanded, and Oswald did as he was told. Two more strokes followed, faster than the ones before, provoking yet more of those enticing gasps from his lover.

“Tell me I deserve this.”

Oswald faltered. His arm paused mid-swing. 

“You deserve this.” He said obediently, because Victor wanted him to. Not because he believed it. 

He brought the cane down on his ass again, but this time it barely left a mark.

Victor grunted, and Oswald could tell he was displeased. “Sorry.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I can't.” 

Oswald was used to lying, but lying to Victor like this seemed wrong. He didn't deserve this. 

Victor had been incredibly good to him. Even when Oswald had been unreasonable and childish and difficult. Really, if one of them deserved to be bent over the desk, receiving a dozen or so strokes of the cane… It was probably him.

Not that he quite had it in him to say that out loud. He doubted he could take such punishment as bravely as Victor. After all, the cane he was using belonged to him. Oswald didn't even know how many times he must have used it (or had it used on him) before.

“Hit me again.” Victor urged. He sounded impatient.

Oswald did it, and Victor hissed quietly then told him that was enough. Oswald was relieved. Dishing out pain to one’s enemies was one thing, dishing it out to one's lover was another. 

Victor turned around and after a moment's hesitation, he placed a hand on the side of Oswald's face. The shorter man leaned into his hand appreciatively. “I shouldn't have asked you to do that, it was selfish.” 

Oswald supposed Victor was allowed to be selfish occasionally. He was just glad he was talking again. “I wouldn't have done it unless you asked me to.” 

“I know.” 

Victor tilted his chin up and they kissed. Long, slow, soft, lingering… Oswald whined when their lips parted, eager for more.

“I would do the same for you.” 

Oswald shivered, and Victor chuckled at how he trembled. Before he could go any further with that suggestion, Oswald pulled him down for another kiss.


	25. Vanilla Ice Cream (Ed x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was 'Vanilla'.

It started with ice cream. 

It turned out, the parlour only stocked vanilla. Oswald was outraged. He didn't understand why an establishment that purported to sell ice cream would only have one flavour.

“We have vanilla frozen yoghurt as well. Or perhaps you would like to try our French vanilla ice cream?” 

“Why on earth did you want to come to this place?” Oswald whined at Ed. He whispered his complaint, but judging by the look on the server's face, she had heard every word.

“It's supposed to be the best in Gotham.” Ed replied, in a know-it-all sort of way that made Oswald roll his eyes.

“I seriously doubt that.” He grumbled.

“I’ll have the frozen yoghurt, please.” Ed said, addressing the increasingly disheartened looking woman behind the counter. “And my friend here will have a scoop of the plain vanilla.” He was pointedly ignoring Oswald's jibes.

The ice cream was good. Oswald was a little disappointed because it meant he had been wrong. 

Begrudgingly, he conceded it probably was the best ice cream he had ever tasted. 

“Say that again.” Ed grinned, and Oswald huffed. “Go on.”

“You were right. It was good.”

“Even though it was just 'boring vanilla’?” Ed teased, enjoying himself far too much.

“Are you going to gloat about this all day?” Oswald complained, and Ed smiled in a way that suggested he might. “It's not a noteworthy victory. After all, it was my idea to go out for ice cream in the first place.”

Ed stepped in close to him, and Oswald's eyes grew wide for a second, because Ed suddenly looked serious. Thankfully, he was not actually in a bad mood with him. Him leaning down to kiss Oswald proved that.

His lips were still chilled from the frozen yoghurt. 

“You’re being childish.” Ed muttered, rather fondly.

“So are you.” 

They kissed again. Lips warmer this time.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Oswald was staring up at Ed, his expression eager despite his earlier petulance. He had been in a bad mood for the last couple of days, running the underworld could be stressful after all, and Ed had thought going out might cheer him up. He had suggested lunch, Oswald had suggested ice cream, because Gotham was having a heatwave. 

He supposed he shouldn't have taken his bad mood out on Ed when he had gone to the trouble of looking up the best ice cream parlour in Gotham.

He’d apologize later.

“I’m sure you'll think of something.” Oswald prompted, growing very eager indeed for Ed and anything he would give him. 

Truthfully, his three piece suit was rather stifling in the heat. He’d be glad to be rid of it.

Ed wrapped his arms around Oswald's waist as he kissed him, and when his lips moved to the smaller man’s throat, Oswald gasped in approval and pawed impatiently at the front of Ed’s shirt. 

“Let's go upstairs.” Ed suggested, and Oswald was happy to comply.

The ice cream turned out to foretell their activities in the bedroom that evening. They were vanilla, but far from boring.

Oswald lay on his back, and Ed kissed him until he was panting out his name desperately. Only then did he flip his lover over onto his stomach, and after preparing him with his tongue and his fingers, he entered him. 

His hands curled around Oswald's hips and he pulled them up so that the other man was on his knees. Oswald moaned, pushing back against Ed greedily. He hadn't realised how much he had needed this.

Ed's thrusts grew faster, his breath heavier. Oswald could hear him behind him, moaning, and it felt good to know he could please Ed like this. 

“Ah!” Ed came, and Oswald soon followed him. 

Maybe he wouldn't need to apologize for his sharp words after all.


	26. Public Play (Maroni x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw for forced oral sex and group sex.

“It won’t be like this for long.” 

That's what Oswald told himself as Maroni shoved his cock into his mouth, making him nearly choke on it. It was the only way he could force himself to ensure such degradation.

Beyond Maroni's low grunt of pleasure, he could hear his Neanderthalic goons hoot and holler in boorish amusement. When he was in charge, things would change. He’d remember each one of them, and he would make sure they suffered for this insult. For every insult.

“How many times do I got to tell you?” Maroni pulled out from him and slapped him on the cheek. “No teeth.”

“Yes, Don Maroni.”

It was shoved back into his mouth, but this time Maroni fisted a large hand through his hair and pulled. Tears pricked the corners of Oswald's eyes.

He tried to do it good for him, because then it would be over faster.

“Shit.” 

It seemed to be working. Maroni's groans grew deeper, a hungry rumble that Oswald tried not to allow himself to like.

He didn't like being some uncouth, brutish mobster’s toy, but a part of him enjoyed making a man who thought himself so strong gasp and grunt. At this moment in his career, it was the only way Oswald could make a man’s knees tremble. 

Maroni cursed and spilled his load into Oswald's mouth. It always caught the smaller man by surprise, and he spluttered, but he did his best to swallow what he could. Spitting was considered an insult.

“You’re getting good at this, Penguin. Forget snitching, this is the kind of work that agrees with you.” Maroni laughed, and like the loyal dogs they were, his goons laughed too.

“Thank you, sir.” He replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You know, I think I’ve been selfish. Maybe I ought to share you with my boys here.”

Oswald felt his blood run cold. 

“But, Don Maroni-”

He didn't know what he was going to say, because whatever he said would be taken as an insult and that might result in him getting a beating, or worse.

It didn't matter anyway. Maroni interrupted him.

“Don’t tell me you think these guys aren't good enough for you.”

Oswald had no way of answering that, so he shook his head desperately. “That's not it, Don Maroni.”

“Then why you got that look on your face like you don't want to do it?”

“I just…” He tried to ignore the feeling of the goons’ lustful eyes on him. Each one of them was drinking him up with his gaze, imagining what they would like to do to him, and it made Oswald's skin crawl. Even though he felt nothing for any of them, it would be a little more tolerable if they desired him out of attraction. But that wasn't it. They didn't think he was handsome or charming or loveable. It was all about power. “I don't know if my jaw can take it.”

It was a lame excuse and Oswald knew it, and if he didn't, Maroni's chuckle would have confirmed how insufficient it was. 

“Well, if your jaw wears out, there's another hole they can stick it in besides your mouth. Right, boys?”

Oswald paled as their laughter filled his ears.

\-- 

His jaw ached, but he didn't dare let them know that. He made himself endure it.

“Fuck, he’s not bad at this.” The third man muttered to a fourth man. The fourth man looked impatient. 

The third man was big, but not the biggest. The biggest was the fourth man. He was stroking his unforgivingly large cock, eyes dark and moody and like he wanted to pull the third man away and take his turn. Oswald didn't even know if he would be able to fit the thing in his mouth.

“He’s lagging a bit though.” The third man said, and Oswald sped up out of fear. He couldn't get tired. If he did, Maroni might tell the remaining men they could fuck his ass instead.

His efforts were successful, the third man came. As he did, he pulled Oswald's face forwards, so he had to take every millimetre of his cock into his mouth.

When he finished, Oswald retched. He couldn't stop it from happening, and it was only when he finished that he began to realise what this meant.

“I don't wanna stick my dick in that. Not after he’s just thrown up.” The fourth man complained. 

Oswald was trembling. 

Maroni had always been satisfied with either his mouth or his hands, so he'd never been fucked that way. He had been hoping he could avoid it ever happening, at least under these circumstances. 

“Then get him some water so he can wash his mouth out, princess.” Maroni scoffed, and Oswald had never been so relieved to hear he was about to get a cock in his mouth in his life.

The fourth man grumbled, but he did as he was told. Oswald said 'thank you’, because he had to. 

After he had swirled the water around in his mouth, he spat it out and summoned up what was left of his stamina. His jaw throbbed, but he would endure it. He would endure every humiliation these fools tormented him with until he was the King of Gotham.


	27. Leash and Collar (Zsasz x Oswald)

“Are you sure you're okay, boss?” Victor asked, his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. He was relieved Oswald was safe, but that didn't erase what had happened. 

He was supposed to be his protector, and yet he had allowed someone to kidnap him. It was a failure he wouldn't forget anytime soon.

“For the millionth time, yes.” Oswald snipped, and Victor couldn't blame him for it. 

When Victor parked the car, Oswald was still fidgeting with the collar that had been fastened around his neck. 

Victor had found Oswald in the midst of an auction where he was for sale. He had been forced onto his knees and stripped down to his underwear. He had been wearing the collar, and a corpulent man that Victor recognised as a middling mafioso held onto a leash. After Victor had killed everyone there and gotten Oswald out, Oswald had torn the leash off, but the collar was apparently trickier to remove.

“Can't get it undone?”

“Obviously.”

“It's only leather, I can cut it off.”

“There's metal inside of it.”

“Ah.”

Victor realised he had been staring when Oswald shifted under his gaze.

He was wearing Victor’s jacket and one of the dead men’s pants, but neither were a particularly good fit. 

“What?” He asked, irritated, his cheeks going pink.

Victor smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring. “It looks good on you.” He said, speaking about the collar. Although the ill fitting clothes were also quite endearing.

Oswald scowled, and his cheeks went pinker. “Shut up.”

It seemed a shame to cut it off straight away, but once they were inside Oswald insisted. 

The skin underneath was left a little pinkened, and Victor gently touched a spot of it with his fingertips.

“Does it hurt?” 

“No.” Oswald said, seeming calmer now that it was off. Victor had almost expected him to snap at him for touching him. He was pleased he hadn't. 

“I’m sorry I let them take you.” 

Oswald sighed, but his expression had grown softer. The initial panic and humiliation fading, he seemed to start to consider how seriously Victor took failure. Despite his earlier moodiness, his words showed he cared for him too much to let Victor feel guilty.

“Don't blame yourself. I have a lot of enemies.” 

Victor wanted to kiss him.

“Oswald…” He dropped the 'boss’ since they were home and safe. It had felt kind of strange to call him by his name at first. His real name. But over time he’d gotten used to it. 

The assassin stepped in close and wrapped his arms around his waist. Oswald had been hesitant to accept his touch earlier, probably shaken by the events of the day, but that had passed. He had been through worse. He was tougher than people knew.

Their kisses quickly grew hot and heavy, and it wasn't long before Victor had him pressed against the kitchen countertop. He lifted him up onto it, then continued to kiss. 

Oswald was taller than him like that, and it made running his lips over the pink marks left by the collar all the easier. 

Oswald gasped and squirmed on the smooth surface, his fingers pressing into Victor's shoulders needily. He didn't need to speak for Victor to know what he wanted. 

He kept nuzzling at his neck, his hands running over Oswald's legs, massaging the muscle and encouraging the other man to spread them for him. His erection was obvious, even in the baggy pants, and when Victor touched it through the cheap dark fabric, Oswald moaned. 

“Wrap your legs around me.” He purred, nipping the bottom of Oswald's ear. He smiled at himself when Oswald did as he was told.

He supposed he was showing off a bit, but Oswald didn't seem to have any complaints. He carried him like that over to the couch, where he let the other man stand again. But not for long.

A few seconds more of passionate kissing and Victor turned him around to face the furniture and bent him over the back of it. 

He didn't even need to unzip the pants in order to tug them down. They pooled around Oswald's ankles, soon followed by his underwear. 

“I thought you were going to take me upstairs.” Oswald admitted, his voice jumping as Victor ran his hand over his ass. Victor squeezed one of the pale cheeks while his other hand undid his own pants. The belt was tricky to undo like that, but he had no wish to keep his hands away from Oswald even for a second.

“Would you prefer that?” He asked, and Oswald shook his head. 

He was glad, because he had just gotten his pants off. 

“Good.”

Victor pressed up against Oswald's back, leaning over him. He could feel the other man's hips shift underneath him, impatient, needy. He wanted him to fuck him, but Victor was a tease by nature. He kissed him and fondled him, but he didn't begin to slick Oswald's hole with lube until he was practically begging him to.

“There.” He said softly, the pads of two of his fingers massaging the tight ring, making Oswald whimper.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He pleaded. 

Victor grinned. “Sorry.” He didn't stop, Oswald moaned into his hands.

“Victor, please...”

He decided to show him a little mercy. After all, it had been a long day for them both.

When he fucked him, he was careful not to hurt him. He had learned quickly that for all the abuse Oswald had suffered in his lifetime, he liked to be treated gently. That was no problem for Victor. Oswald provoked a protective urge in him. He had no wish to cause him pain, he dealt out enough of that in his professional life. 

“You looked so good in that collar.” Victor commented, leaning against Oswald's back as they enjoyed the afterglow.

Oswald sighed contentedly. “I looked ridiculous.”

Victor kissed him on the cheek. “Wrong.”

He sensed it wasn't the best time to bring it up, but he had bought a similar collar for Oswald to wear a couple of days ago. He knew Oswald's pride would prevent him from ever wearing it in public, but in the bedroom was another matter. However, he probably wouldn't want to after what had happened.

That was okay though. Victor didn't mind making compromises so long as Oswald was happy.


	28. Discipline (Ed x Oswald)

When he was about five years old, Ed’s father grabbed his small son by the wrist and pulled him over his knee. He gave the boy around half a dozen hard swats to the seat of his shorts and that was more than enough to make him burst into noisy, panicked tears. 

Ed couldn't remember the reason for the punishment, but if he were to guess, he had probably been a pest while his father was trying to sleep off his nightshift. Ed bawling afterwards most likely hadn't made it easier for him to get any shut eye.

What he did remember was running into his mother's arms. She cuddled him for a little while, then her sympathy wore out, and she scolded him for crying too much and being a brat.

He was smacked every so often for various misdemeanours and mischief during his childhood, but after that incident he had learned not to go to his mother for comfort. It only made him feel worse.

When he brought up that he had been hit as a child, Oswald was horrified.

“Your mother never-”

“Of course not!” Oswald said, aghast at the mere suggestion.

Ed supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Although he imagined Oswald would have done plenty of things to warrant a spanking as a child. 

Actually… Ed thought Oswald did plenty of things to warrant a spanking as an adult. 

He liked Oswald, and he was grateful for all he had done for him. He respected his achievements, as well as his drive to succeed, but that didn't change the fact that he could be a bit of a brat at times. Particularly when things didn't go his way.

“Then what did she do when you misbehaved?” He asked.

Oswald looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. “Nothing. Or at least, I don't recall what she did.”

“I see.”

“I suppose I didn't need to be disciplined by her. I was quite a well behaved child, believe it or not.” Oswald boasted, and Ed most certainly did not believe that.

It must have shown on his face, because Oswald frowned at him. 

“What?” He asked, a little cranky at being doubted.

Ed smiled and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The light caught in them, temporarily masking his otherwise very obvious mirth. “I apologise. I was just thinking about how you act now, and I can't imagine that you didn't need it from time to time when you were a child.”

He knew that would irk Oswald, but he said it anyway, because he couldn't resist. 

Oswald went slightly pink and he took an angry swig from his wine glass. He scowled at Ed, and Ed found himself struggling to resist the urge to push Oswald further.

It would be so very easy to provoke him into a tantrum. 

But then what?

It wasn't as if he actually intended to spank him.

“Let's change the topic.” Oswald huffed, but Ed was only half listening.

Now that the thought had entered his head, it was impossible to shake loose, even if he wanted to, and he wasn't certain that he did.

\--

It took them months to actually get to the point where Oswald was lying facedown over his lap. He’d thrown one tantrum too many, and Ed had finally decided that spanking Oswald wasn't a completely ridiculous idea.

He could use some discipline. 

Of course, he had resisted at first. He’d been outraged. But then, to Ed’s surprise, he had let himself be pulled over the other man's knee.

Oswald's body was warm and firm against his thighs. It was a nice feeling, although entirely unfamiliar to Ed. He felt like he could get used to it.

“You’ve been asking for this for a long time, Oswald.” Ed declared, wrapping an arm around the other man's trim waist to keep him secure. 

His heart was beating fast in his chest, and he was sure that Oswald's was too. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

“Just get it over with.” Oswald’s voice was muffled, his face pressed into his forearms. 

Ed patted him on the bottom. The bare skin was quite cool against the palm of his hand, but it wouldn't be that way for long. 

He raised his palm up high, then brought it down with a satisfying smack. A sharp jolt of lust shot through him at the sound, and the way that Oswald tensed and hissed at the impact.

“This is long overdue.” 

He slapped him again, a little harder, and Oswald gasped. 

“That's too hard.” He complained, and Ed supposed that it would be considerate to listen to him, but Oswald wasn't the one in charge. He was, and he didn't think it was too hard.

“This is the least that you deserve.” 

Another smack, Oswald whimpered, then whined in frustration.

His hand fell over and over onto Oswald's ass, quickly turning the pale skin pink, and quickly turning Oswald's quiet whimpers and gasps of discomfort into more desperate sounding yelps and moans. 

Ed found it intoxicating. 

“As I said before, Oswald. You have definitely earned this.” He raised his voice a bit so it could be heard clearly over Oswald's moans and the loud smacking sound that his palm made every time it struck his ass. “Maybe now you will think twice about acting like such a spoiled child whenever you don't get your own way.”

He hoped that he didn't.

Oswald attempted to argue, but all he got out was a petulant sounding “Edward!”, before he gave up and started whimpering instead. A couple more well placed swats, and he sobbed. 

“I suppose you never got a time out either. Maybe after this I should-”

Ed paused. As Oswald squirmed against his lap, something hard prodded against his legs.

It didn't take someone of Ed’s intellect to work out what it was.

“Oswald?” 

This time, it was him whose face went pink. His hand slowly lowered to rest on the other man's ass, and his thumb ran over the tender skin. 

Oswald’s breath quivered in his throat, and then more sobs followed. 

“This is mortifying.” He sniffled. 

Ed swallowed hard. His fingertips trembled slightly on top of the heated flesh. He wasn't quite hard himself yet, but he certainly felt desire building up inside of him, begging to be acted upon. 

“Get up,” He mumbled, his voice less sure than he would have liked.

“I don't want a time out.” Oswald pleaded, and Ed nearly laughed. Thankfully, for the sake of Oswald's pride, he managed to hold it in.

He rubbed a hand over Oswald's ass again, then let it slip between his legs. The cock beneath him was hard and seemed to twitch with impatience when he touched it. 

“Since this is your first time, I’ll let you off easy. But next time, you're going in the corner afterwards.” He could hear the lust and the urgency in his voice, and he was sure Oswald could too, but he had no will to hide it. He only wanted to get Oswald up off of his lap and on all fours instead, or on his back. Whatever Oswald preferred.

Oswald mumbled something incomprehensible that sounded like a plea, and Ed answered it by pulling the other man onto his feet and kissing him, hard and desperate, and without any self-restraint or discipline.


	29. Outfit (Harvey x Nicewald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this could have a part two... We'll see!

“I can't thank you enough. Truly. I am in your debt.” 

Harvey sighed and kept his eyes firmly plastered on the road in front of him, even though the car is stationary. They were stuck in traffic. It was just his luck.

He had been trying to do a good deed, but he had wanted it over with quickly. He’d drive the guy to his, get him a change of clothes and a sandwich, then they’d part ways. Being stuck in a car for most of the afternoon with Oswald Cobblepot in a maid’s outfit was not what he'd planned for his day. He supposed no good deed went unpunished in Gotham. 

“Don't mention it. Seriously.” He replied, trying hard not to give in and look at the other guy. 

It was surreal to see him that way. It wasn't only the outfit, but the look on his face. He seemed so soft and… Harmless.

He had thought it was bullshit as first, but it seemed to be true. The Penguin had been reformed.

He didn't trust himself to look, because he felt that if he did, he would stare. He’d already learned that Oswald had surprisingly nice legs, that was more than he’d ever wanted to know about the little snitch.

“You mind if I turn the radio on?” He asked, feeling like he needed something to distract himself.

“No, please go ahead.” Oswald replied, so chipper it made Harvey cringe.

“Thanks.” 

The first station had a love song on, he changed it immediately. The next had a high energy track that sounded like it belonged in a nightclub. The third was sports. Harvey kept it there. He didn't care what they were saying, but anything was better than nothing.

He had found Oswald when calling in at Gilzean’s to ask some questions about a robbery that involved some ‘acquaintances’ of his. Oswald had been on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, dressed like a maid. Stockings and a little white headdress and everything. 

Harvey had thought he was hallucinating at first. Either that or Butch and Tabitha were into some freakier shit than he’d guessed.

“Detective Bullock!” Oswald had gone pink when he saw him, but Tabitha cracked the whip behind him and he quickly lowered his eyes again and went back to scrubbing.

He hadn't been able to leave him there when he was going. It didn't sit right. Tabitha said it was 'punishment’, but Harvey didn't like the dark glint in her eye when she’d said that. He had grabbed Oswald by the arm and announced he was taking him with him. Oswald had been surprised, but when that wore off, he was obviously pleased. Harvey knew because he wouldn't stop thanking him.

The cars in front of them finally started to move, and Harvey felt like cheering in relief. He didn't know how much longer he could have stopped himself from staring.

\--

When they arrived at his place, Harvey got Oswald to sit down on the couch.

“I’ll be right back.” He went into his bedroom to look out his smallest clothes. When he returned a couple of minutes later, Oswald was fast asleep.

“Hey.”

No response.

“Hey. Penguin.”

Nothing.

His skirt had ridden up his thigh, revealing more leg. Harvey ran a hand over his face, partly to obscure his vision. “Great…”

He supposed he should have woke him up, told him to get dressed and clear off, but he didn't. Harvey blamed Jim. The guy was making him soft.

He went to his bedroom and closed the door. He knew it was pathetic, like he was some sort of horny teenager, but he had something he needed to take care of. Maybe he'd be able to think straight again afterwards.

He took off his jacket and his tie and kicked off his shoes. Then, he got onto his bed. It was embarrassing at first, but once he started to touch himself, the awkwardness faded and was replaced wholly by lust.

Had he been attracted to Oswald before? He didn't think so. 

Okay, so maybe he sometimes looked kind of cute when he was all nervy, but he hadn't dwelt on it. He certainly hadn't thought of him while touching himself before.

Harvey closed his eyes, grunting softly as his movements became faster, more desperate.

He could see Oswald, dressed like that, bent over. Shy but not shy enough to stop him. Harvey imagined he was wearing panties under that frilly skirt, because briefs wouldn't go with it. They'd be black, and the delicate fabric would be stretched tight over the curve of Oswald's ass as he bent over for him. He’d flip his skirt up and pull his panties down, and Oswald would squeak in that way that he did. 

Oswald was probably a virgin, but in Harvey's hastily put together fantasy he needed no warm up. He simply grabbed his hips and plowed into him, fast and hard and with Oswald crying out for more.

He leaned down to kiss the side of his neck, and Oswald moaned appreciatively in response. Maybe he’d say something about how good it felt. Or maybe he'd just moan some more.

Harvey bit back his cry of pleasure as he came, because Oswald was next door, and the thought of him knowing was too much for the grizzled detective. Oswald was all starry-eyed and innocent for now, but that didn't mean Harvey wanted to give him an in. He wasn't about to let himself actually get involved with a criminal, reformed (and in a cute maid outfit) or not.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock on the door.   
“Detective Bullock?” 

Harvey's heart hammered in his chest.

“Yeah?” 

He sounded guilty as hell and he knew it, he hadn't even had a chance to catch his breath.

“Can I come in?”

The voice was small and innocent, and a little bit curious. And Harvey didn't know what to say to it.


	30. Wrestling (Jim x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More hurt/comfort than smut.

“Strangely enough, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jim raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.

Oswald failed in trying to look apologetic, instead he smiled in a nervous, restless sort of way. A little too much wine and he had even less control over his emotions than he usually did.

“I would have guessed boxing first if you’d asked me what your sport was in high school but…” He trailed off when Jim started to advance on him. He had drank a little too much as well. “Wrestling isn’t difficult to imagine either. After all, you are quite adept at pinning me down.”

Jim chuckled, now just a footstep away from pressing against Oswald. He ran his hands over the front of the other man’s suit jacket, then curled his fingers around the lapels.

“You make it easy.”

Oswald went pink.

“Still. My point stands. Were you good?”

Jim’s grip tightened around the pinstriped fabric. He pulled Oswald close to him, and their lips met messily.

Oswald let himself melt into Jim, resting his hands on his waist. He did it a little awkwardly, because no matter how much they kissed, he had never quite gotten used to the privilege of being able to touch him. He never knew what to do with his hands. Or anything else for that matter. Thankfully Jim was always quick to take the lead.

“Ah!”

Suddenly, he felt his feet leave the ground and in an instant, he was on the floor with Jim’s chest pushed to his back and his arm across his throat.

He heard him laugh.

“James, that is not- This is not appropriate at all! I am not your sparring partner!” He planned to keep on scolding him, but Jim’s grip loosened and he started to kiss him on the ear, the jaw, the throat… Oswald whimpered needily.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yes you did.”

“Maybe a little. Just wanted to show you my moves.”

Oswald gasped as Jim shifted against his back. Unlike him in his three piece suit, Jim was only wearing an undershirt and slacks. He could feel his strength through the layers of fabric between them. 

Jim’s arm dropped from Oswald’s throat, it joined the other in wrapping around Oswald in an embrace.

More kisses and soon Oswald had forgiven Jim for nearly giving him a heart attack. Perhaps in the morning he would be sore at him again, because he was sure he would have a bruise from hitting the floor so suddenly.

However, for now, he was happy to simply enjoy it.

“Oh Jim…”

The fire kept them warm as they undressed in front of it. Jim pulled off his undershirt, and Oswald gazed at him in awe. His hands were at the buttons of his shirt, but were unmoving.

Once again, Jim took the lead.

Oswald shifted in embarrassment as the buttons were undone, each one revealing more of his body. It was pale and thin and no where near as impressive as Jim’s. He didn’t know how the other man could stand to touch it the way that he did.

He could do so much better.

“Come here.” Jim must have noticed an expression on his face that betrayed his melancholy thoughts, because he drew Oswald in close to him and kissed him on the forehead.

Oswald blinked back tears. He told himself it was probably the wine again, making his emotions run too freely.

“Sorry. I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have-”

“No. I, uh… it’s not that.”

Jim ran his thumb over his cheekbone. Oswald sighed.

“How do you put up with me?” He asked, and Jim smiled with undeniable fondness.

“I was thinking the same thing.”


	31. Multiple Orgasms (Ed x Oswald)

Oswald supposed he was a traditionalist in some ways. Either that or what Ed was doing really was odd.

“Edward, is this really necessary?” He asked, a hint of a whine in his voice. “It seems unnatural.”

Ed snapped the book he was reading shut. 'The Male Multiple Orgasm: Unlock Your Inner Casanova’. It was a tacky looking book, and one beneath Ed’s brilliance. Oswald thought it was a waste of time. Ed insisted it came highly recommended. He had decided they should use it as a guide. Oswald was to be the test subject. 

Oswald was perfectly happy with having one orgasm, then cuddling. However, Ed believed that more must surely be better.

“Trust me, it will be good. Just squeeze my arm when you're close, alright?” Ed looked so keen. He was difficult to resist when he got that way so Oswald hadn't outright refused him.

“But-”

Ed kissed him on the lips and gave him a smile. Oswald was fairly sure it was just to quieten his queries, but it worked. “Relax.”

He nodded obediently. 

“Let's get you undressed.” 

Ed undid his tie for him and popped open his shirt buttons one after the other. The movements he made were practiced and elegant. He didn't fumble once. Oswald’s hands always shook when he undressed Ed. 

When he was done, Ed took off his own shirt and put it nearly aside. He kept on his pants, which disappointed Oswald a little, but he supposed Ed had no reason to be completely naked for this. The view was nice as it was. Although Oswald didn't have long to admire that view, because soon after it had been created, Ed leaned over Oswald and started nuzzling him affectionately. His hand trailed down the other man's torso. A warm palm ran smoothly over the soft, pale skin of Oswald's stomach, then down further still until it curled around the base of his cock. He started to stroke him, slow and steady, and Oswald bit his bottom lip and whimpered impatiently in response. 

“Kiss me?” He pleaded, and Ed did, lightly on the cheek.

It was sweet, but Oswald wanted more. “I meant on the mou-”

“Shh…” 

Oswald supposed it was silly to feel hurt by that. Ed wasn't rejecting him. He was in the middle of giving him a hand job for God's sake. He was doing this for his pleasure, and Oswald had probably thrown off his concentration with that sentimental request. That was all.

“Remember to squeeze my arm when you get close.” Ed reminded him. Oswald groaned softly.

“Oswald?”

“Yes. Fine.” He replied, with a touch of irritation. 

It was difficult to relax and lose oneself in the sensations when you had to concentrate on not ejaculating. Ed had told him that if he felt himself about to, he was to clench his pelvic floor muscles. He wasn't entirely sure what those were, but he didn't want to ask Ed to explain it again. 

He wondered if Ed would be annoyed at him if he 'forgot’ to squeeze his arm. If he came without warning. It was tempting. It was very, very tempting.

Maybe then Ed would give up on the advice in that ridiculous book. Maybe then they could go back to having sex like a normal couple instead of trying these odd little experiments from time to time that Oswald never even particularly liked.

Or maybe Ed would be cross with him. Maybe he'd punish him. Oswald couldn't help but feel a little thrilled at that possibility. He might enjoy that. Depending on the punishment.

“Oh, Ed…” He moaned, his hips rocking forwards in little jutting motions. He was close. He supposed it was time to squeeze Ed’s arm. Ed looked at him curiously, as if asking him if it was time, but Oswald averted his gaze. A few moments later, he squeezed Ed’s arm, but he had deliberately left it too late. As his grip tightened, he gasped, and spilled his load all over Ed’s hand.

“You did that on purpose.” Ed scolded, wiping his hand down on some tissue paper. 

Oswald was too busy basking in the afterglow to pay much attention to the accusation. He hummed contentedly. “That's not true.” He lied.

Ed frowned. 

“Turn over.”

“Hm?”

“I said, turn over. Roll onto your stomach.”

Now that lust wasn't fogging over his common sense, Oswald found that punishment wasn't quite as appealing a notion to him.

“Why?” He asked, a little nervously.

“Another method to achieving multiple orgasms is to stimulate the prostate.” Ed replied, placing his hands on Oswald's waist. Oswald resisted, but Ed managed to flip him over, and keep him there with a hand on his back. Oswald squeaked.

“But, Ed-”

“Of course, if you’d rather not…” Oswald could feel Ed’s eyes drawing over him. From the nape of his neck, all the way down his spine, to the curve of his ass. Ed cupped one of his cheeks, and Oswald barely kept in a gasp. “There are other things we can do in this position.”

Oswald shifted on his stomach. “I didn't do anything…” He whined. 

He knew that was false. He had deliberately ruined Ed’s experiment because of his own impatience. He should have just told Ed he wasn't up for it. Ed would have probably been a little disappointed, but he wouldn't have forced him. 

Ed patted him lightly on the buttocks. “Are you lying to me?”

Oswald squirmed, he pressed his face into the bed. His cheeks were steadily growing hot and pink. “Only a little bit.” He answered lamely.

He heard Ed sigh, then chuckle. The sound sent a not entirely unpleasant shiver down his spine. A single fingertip ran over the cleft of his ass. “We have about twenty minutes until you’ll be ready to orgasm again. I think we’ll use that time to deal with your dishonesty.”

Oswald whimpered. “Twenty minutes is a long time.”

“Five of those minutes will be aftercare.” Ed clarified, with a fondness in his voice that made Oswald immediately go all soft inside.

Fifteen minutes still felt like a lot. But aftercare meant cuddling, it meant kissing, it meant Ed running his hands over tender skin and softly whispering words of affection into his ear.

“Okay then…” He mumbled, another shiver running through his spine as Ed chuckled once more. Perhaps not all of Ed’s experiments were all that bad. His favourites were those that included cuddling afterwards.


	32. Blood/Meant No Harm (Maroni x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-consensual oral sex, humiliation, and a rather severe belting.

The little snitch was crying. Actually crying.

It was pitiful.

Between that and the blood dribbling from his nose, he was a sorry sight. 

He’d been caught sneaking around, listening when he shouldn't have been. Then there was his bad attitude where Frankie was concerned. 

He seemed to think just because he was useful, that gave him the right to mouth off to the others. He was wrong, and Frankie had made him pay for it with a fist to the face.

Maroni had been raised in an old fashioned way. He had been taught that when you were upset, you didn't cry. You punched something. Preferably the bastard that had made you want to cry.

“Please, Don Maroni. I swear, I didn't mean any harm. I was only-”

Maroni held up his finger and Oswald shrank obediently in response. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Not yet you aren't, but you will be.” He rolled up his sleeves, and smirked slightly when he saw the smaller man's eyes nervously following his movements. “Bend over my desk, and none of your usual shying away bullshit. I want your legs spread and your ass up. Got it?”

“What are you going to do?” He asked timidly, although Maroni doubted that he didn't know. True, the little guy had grown up without a father, but that didn't mean he would be totally clueless about when he was going to get a well deserved thrashing. 

“I think you know, Penguin. Now, move.” 

“But, Don Maroni-”

Maroni grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. That was enough to make him start babbling at 100 mph, denying everything one moment, then begging forgiveness the next.

“You stay put.” He barked, once he had him where he wanted him. 

Oswald sniffled miserably. Perhaps he thought if he acted pathetic enough, Maroni would feel bad for him and let him off with a warning.

“I thought I said I wanted those legs spread.” 

Oswald moved them a fraction of an inch apart.

“And raise your ass up like I told you to.”

Oswald bent a little further forwards, the back of his suit jacket rising up a little to reveal the curve of his ass, but it was clear he was hesitating. Maroni didn't know if it was fear, or if it was embarrassment.

Probably both.

He unbuckled his belt and with one firm movement, it slid smoothly from the loops of his pants. Oswald shivered at the sound, and Maroni enjoyed it shamelessly.

“Don Maroni, please don't do this.” 

He folded the belt in half and wrapped it around his hand. Oswald looked over his shoulder and his eyes grew wide at the sight. “Please. I assure you. I won't do it again.”

“You’re damn right you won't. Get your face forward.”

He put a hand on the smaller man's back and when Oswald tried to resist, he pushed down hard so he was pinned onto the flat surface.

“Please, let me make it up to you! I swear that I will!” His voice was growing shrill with panic. Maroni couldn't remember ever acting that way, not even when he was a little kid. “I implore you, there is no need for you to do this!”

Maroni raised the belt up high.

“Please!”

And brought it down hard.

Oswald shrieked, and bucked, and Maroni had to press down harder on his back to keep him in place. It confirmed what he had already assumed, Oswald wouldn't take this well.

He wasted no time. He brought the belt down on his ass over and over, and Oswald wailed and cried like he was murdering him. 

He wondered if it really hurt so bad, or if he was trying to make Maroni stop by acting like it was worse than it was.

“I want this to be a lesson to you. No more sneaking around.”

“Yes! Yes, of course!”

“And you’ll show me and my friends some proper respect.”

“Absolutely! Please stop!”

Maroni began to slow down the strokes, until he stopped altogether, and Oswald was left sobbing, snivelling, whimpering into his arms. 

His breathing was heavy. His back trembling. 

Maroni couldn't see his face but he bet it was flushed red and a mess of tears.

He loosened his shirt collar with one thick finger and slapped the leather against Oswald's ass one last time. He didn't hit him nearly so hard as before, but the snitch still blubbered anyway and flinched against the side of the desk.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked, placing his hand on his back again, but this time, his touch was light, almost comforting.

Oswald nodded and promised that he had.

“Good. Then you won't mind apologising to me.” 

It was clear that Oswald didn't follow, so Maroni spelled it out for him. He grabbed Oswald by the hair, and guided him down onto his knees. 

He had been right, Oswald's face was red, and tears were smeared over his sweaty skin. He hiccuped slightly as he looked up at Maroni, his lips quivering all prettily.

“Please.” He begged.

Maroni shushed him, and slapped him lightly on the face. “Quiet.”

Of course, he wasn't that good with his mouth. He was an amateur, and most likely a virgin too. But that didn't matter. The point wasn't really to enjoy it, it was to make Oswald sorry.

He still has his belt in hand, and when Oswald lagged, he whapped it down onto his back. Not hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough to make him scared.

“That's right. You just remember what I can do to you when you next decide to break the rules.” He tugged on Oswald's hair and pushed him forward, further onto his cock, the muffled sound of a sob escaped the smaller man's full mouth. “You can't get all uppity like this, can you? Not with my cock in that smart mouth of yours.”

He felt himself getting close and he swore underneath his breath.

“Back up.” He ordered, and when Oswald obeyed, Maroni held his head still with a fist in his hair. With his other hand, he tugged himself off until he came. The streaks of cum landed on Oswald's face, sticking to his skin, and made the little guy wince with a pitiful little squeak. 

“Clean yourself up then get back to work.”

“Yes, Don Maroni.” Oswald said, because he had to, because he had learned his place.

Maroni watched him hobble shakily towards the washroom that attached to his office, and even once he closed the door over, he could still hear him sniffling. 

He thought to himself how he wouldn't mind repeating this, if Oswald stepped out of line again. 

He had a funny feeling that he would.


	33. Under the influence/Secret admirer (Harvey x Oswald)

Harvey hated it. 

It made him feel dirty, and powerless. It didn't quite keep him up at night but it did make looking Jim in the eye a little difficult from time to time.

But he needed the money. 

Besides, it wasn't just him. Everyone else was doing it. 

Even the Commissioner.

What Jim didn't know couldn't hurt him.

Despite his attempts to justify his actions, when Penguin said he wanted to personally hand him his latest 'bonus’, Harvey felt his stomach sink in dread.

He knew the little bastard well enough to know he was going to rub it in his face.

When he arrived at the Iceberg Lounge, Penguin was nowhere to be seen. 

He hung around near the door for a couple of minutes, then thought 'screw it’ and headed to the bar. 

He was on his third drink when Penguin showed up. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

He didn't look sorry. He looked happy.

Actually, he looked pretty damn good all over. 

Clearly, being the undisputed King of Gotham agreed with him. 

Harvey had known him since he had been a nervy little umbrella boy. Probably no older than twenty-five. Maybe younger. Nearly ten years had passed since then and Harvey had to squint real hard see him as that same kid.

“Whatever. You got the cash?” His speech was a little loosey goosey, the words flowed into each other more than he meant them to.

Penguin held out a brown paper envelope and Harvey snatched it from him.

“Great, thanks.” He said gruffly.

“You can't leave without having another drink.” Harvey knew he shouldn't. “It's on me. Come on, Captain. We should toast our partnership.”

Damn it.

It was clear he didn't really have a choice. You couldn't say no to the guy who was paying off your loan sharks.

\--

Oswald tasted like booze. Or maybe that was just him. It was hard to tell.

Either way, it was good.

He made the sweetest sounds too. Nothing like he would have thought a hardened criminal would make. Soft, quick little gasps and then long, trembling whimpers. 

When he blushed it brought out his freckles.

Harvey had never really noticed them before.

“I always thought it was Jim you had the hots for.” He remarked teasingly, palming his dick and making the smaller man keen desperately. He couldn't help but smirk a little at that. 

“A-Ah… Oh, I do… But-” His breath was caught in his throat, but he was doing his best to get his point across. “But I like you both. Oh, please keep doing that…”

Harvey obliged and it wasn't long before Oswald came, seed messing the back of his hand as well as Oswald's stomach.

He seemed embarrassed at how quick he was, but Harvey had expected it.

“I’m sorry, I got too excited, I’m new to… Well, all of this really.” He stammered, all wide eyed and apologetic looking. It was a nice change from the smug smirk he often had plastered across his face, especially in recent times.

“It's alright. You can make it up to me.”

Oswald seemed not to follow. Then he nodded. “I will get you another envelope.”

Harvey wasn't sure whether to laugh or to be insulted. He decided to laugh.

“That's not what I meant.”

Oswald blinked. 

“I don't understand.” He said slowly.

Harvey kind of felt a bit sorry for him then. Here he was, in bed with the guy, having just finished jacking him off, yet he still thought all he cared about was getting another wad of cash.

It would be different if he'd told him that before doing anything, but he hadn't. He was in his bed because he wanted to be. 

It was nice actually, to do something because he wanted to, and not because he was being paid for it.

Harvey pulled him up into his arms and gave him another kiss. He hoped that answered his questions.


	34. Shackles/Grinding (Jerome x Oswald)

Oswald was livid.

He was furious.

He couldn't believe the incompetence of his men to allow this to happen to him. He deserved better. He was the King of Gotham.

When he was freed, he would be having 'words’ with every fool that had been on duty when he was taken.

Despite his anger, when the door of the basement creaked open, he felt another emotion too.

Fear.

“You!” He recognised his captor's face. He had never had the displeasure of meeting him before, but how could he forget the boy that had terrorised all of Gotham (twice) and sent it into a tailspin towards chaos and mindless violence?

“Me.” Jerome confirmed, his lips stretching into a wide, predatory grin. He shut the door behind him with a soft click and began walking towards Oswald with an irritating nonchalance. He chuckled slightly when he got close, then tapped one of the metal shackles that chained Oswald's wrists to the wall. “Pretty cool, huh? They're electrocuted. Just in case you get a bit too rowdy.”

Oswald was insulted. 

“Rowdy?” He repeated, with a disbelieving scoff.

Rather than getting 'rowdy’, he would like to get free and throttle the cur with the shackles that bound him.

“I hear you’ve got a temper.” Jerome explained, and with an annoying sound effect, he 'booped’ Oswald on the tip of his beaky nose. 

“Do that again and I bite it off.” He growled, trying to make up for his disadvantageous position by sounding fierce.

Jerome did it again.

Oswald missed his chance to bite him.

Jerome laughed. 

“You know, no one told me that the so-called King of this garbage dump city was kind of cute in person. You really are. Even if you sort of look like you want to run me through with a dagger right now.” 

Oswald bared his teeth into a vicious smile and was ready to snap at him, but then he felt it. Jerome's thigh rubbing against his cock, through the fabric of his pants, firm enough to be unbearably sensual.

He couldn't help it, he moaned.

He had never been touched like that by another person. 

“Hm… Maybe that's part of the attraction.” Jerome cooed.

Oswald’s cock grew stiff inside of his boxers, soon tenting the pinstripe fabric of his pants. He was ashamed at how quick he was to become turned on, but truthfully, being bound had always been a secret fantasy of his, and he was desperately touch starved.

“I like a bit of danger.”

Jerome kept rubbing, moving his leg back and forth, slowly and deliberately, until Oswald was gasping. 

Then, he stopped. 

He held his thigh where it was but the wonderful movements stopped.

Oswald groaned impatiently and got what friction he could from rocking his hips until Jerome tutted him and withdrew his leg all together.

“Don't!” Oswald pleaded. He was panting and his cheeks had grown pink with excitement.

Jerome merely chuckled and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“For a bird, you sure are acting like a dog in heat. It's not very kingly to hump someone's leg without asking.” He teased, and if Oswald wasn't so hopelessly turned on he would have pointed out that asking seemed a bit redundant when Jerome had been the one to initiate the contact.

“Maybe you should ask me nicely if you can hump my leg.” He snickered, with a surprisingly boyish mischief.

Oswald turned his head to the side and let out a low, desperate whimper.

“Or maybe you want something else?” Jerome inquired, feigning politeness.

Oswald nodded, eyes squeezed shut. 

“What do you want, your majesty?”

There was a great deal Oswald wanted. Images and sounds and sensations whizzed through his head, overloading him and making him even more aroused than he already was. 

He wanted kisses. He wanted bites. He wanted to be turned around and fucked. He wanted Jerome to wrap his lips around his cock and suck him dry.

He wanted anything and everything.

Not all of him did. In fact, the rational part of his mind was screaming at him to get ahold of himself, but that part may as well have been silent for all the power it had over him in the moment.

He must have taken too long to speak because Jerome grew antsy and without warning, he began to tug off Oswald's tie. Oswald was startled by the sudden, rough yanks and let out a small gasp of protest, but he was ignored. When Jerome was done, he stretched the fabric out between his two hands.

“Open up.” He ordered, and when Oswald opened his mouth to ask why, Jerome responded by putting the neckwear in his mouth and tying each end around his head. 

It was a gag.

“Don’t want you biting me.” Jerome explained, patting him on the cheek.

Oswald’s nostrils flared and he let out a frustrated, rather embarrassing sounding whimper. It didn't sound nearly as threatening as he had hoped. Instead he sounded horny and pathetically needy. Jerome smiled and with a soft laugh, he leaned in and started to kiss Oswald on the neck.

Their bodies were pressed close together, and the warmth of the other man, feeling him move against him, was enough to have Oswald groaning wantonly behind the gag. 

Jerome sucked lightly on the skin of his neck, teeth grazing until choice spots were sensitive and tender. Oswald shuddered and let his head arch back until it could go no further.

“You seem like you’re about to burst.” Jerome murmured, with obvious amusement.

Oswald nodded urgently, whining for more.

Jerome moved away again, and this time it felt far, far crueller. Oswald pulled against his shackles, eyes wide and begging as Jerome stood just out of reach, laughing at him.

“Sorry, birdbrain. Gotta dash. I have a city to destroy.” 

He gave Oswald a wicked smile and blew him a kiss, and then he was gone.

Oswald swore that when he got out of this wretched basement, he would kill him.


End file.
